


It's a Problem of Identity: Artemis Fowl/Harry Potter crossover

by iesnoth



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artemis Fowl side characters, Gen, Ghosts, Male OC is a sidecharacter, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 24,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesnoth/pseuds/iesnoth
Summary: Originally from af-answers.tumblr.comAfter an experiment goes wrong, Artemis finds himself at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry: and he's not a wizard. Things go from bad to worse as Artemis has a run-in with Draco Malfoy, dementors, and someone from his past...





	1. Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was compiled from my blog af-answers on tumblr, from a short-term crossover event initially conceived because Artemis shares a birthday with the opening ceremonies at Hogwarts. If you like Artemis Fowl and would like more content, please check it out!

> fish-tuna asked:
> 
> Happy birthday to Artemis!

Many thanks, fish-tuna, but any celebrations will have to wait.

One of my latest time-travel experiments went awry and I’m not quite sure where– or when– I am.

It’s comforting that this line of communication is still functional, though.

Would someone inform Foaly of my debacle. And perhaps, keep it from my mother and Butler?

And Holly, but for a completely different reason.


	2. School Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dates on these chapters will reflect when they happened in literal time, so it would behoove you to pay attention to them. :)

> happygothe-epic-posts asks:
> 
> Arty Jr.

**Artemis** : Haha, amusing, but I do not have time for this. I’m trying to work out where and when I am.

Magic is obviously very prominent here– in fact, everyone here seems to be magical– but the architecture is almost identical to London in the 17th century. Almost identical, perhaps, because this is London. And modern London, judging by the language used and belaying the architecture. It’s fascinating, though. I seem to have aged down on this trip through time and space.

Sound advice, @morganteribefan . I don’t know how my “gang” will get here, but being discreet does seem to be the order of the day. I seem to be the only non-magical being here. A family mistaking me for a student proved most helpful. Apparently, today is the opening day of the Hogwarts school that all the children attend. So they assumed I, being a child, would be attending.

Thankfully, I’m not so culture shocked that I lost my wits, and said yes I was, but I’d lost my list of supplies. One of their children is a second year, which is the age I appear to be, so they let me copy his list. Going to Hogwarts is the key to maintaining my cover, but this world operates on a gold money system and the only gold I have is Holly’s coin (which I’m not giving up), so I’m up a proverbial creek without a paddle. I did manage to talk myself up some robes, though. Baggy and ridiculous, but they do hide my Armani suit and the damaged ultra-dimensional device. So, which shop should I visit first?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction was imported from af-answers.tumblr.com by the original author.


	3. Observation at Ollivander's

 

> **[raylaandcallum](http://raylaandcallum.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
>  
> 
> (to the mod: thanks so much for your hard work! your blog brightens my day!) Artemis, what do you do when you feel sad?

Usually I’d listen to classical music when I’m feeling melancholy, or compose a piece to convey said feeling. I composed a lot after my resurrection, but that brought a happiness with it as well: I was relieved I remembered how.

I went to Ollivander’s as you all suggested. A charming shop with an interesting proprietor. I observed as wands “chose” their owners, and made many hypotheses on how and why. But I didn’t get a wand, for several reasons. First, I’m almost positive the wands only respond to magical beings, and I’m not sure if I have magic anymore. And even if I do, is wizarding magic different from fairy magic? It is on a fundamental level: these wizards use incantations and don’t need to replenish their supply.

I didn’t want to blow my cover and face whatever punishment there is for being a “Muggle”— what a ridiculous name— and I’m quite intrigued to explore Hogwarts. So I took a branch off a tree and a knife off a pickpocket, and in about half an hour I had made a convincing fake wand. Now I still need a way to fake magic convincingly. I’m going to try to complete the ritual, but I’m not even sure fairies like Holly exist in this dimension… I’m going to go do some composing.

~~Mod: Thanks so much! I’m glad you like it!~~


	4. Artemis in Knockturn Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of the fanfic proper! These will be sprinkled in throughout the chapters.

Artemis backed into an alley as a flock of wizards wearing gold badges on their robes walked past. He rolled his eyes in the fashion known to cow or infuriate whoever saw it. Though Diagon Alley obviously had a storied history and was home to great magic, the whole place had a gaudy, amusement-park feel to it that irritated him.

As he watched the police wizards pass from the shadows, a hand reached out and yanked him back further into the dark. Artemis tensed. Usually no one got close enough to manhandle him like this. All of a sudden, he missed Butler terribly, but he pushed the feeling aside. Now wasn’t the time for panic, but ingenious survival.

“Ig’nerent and might cocky of a young wizard, to come inta Knockturn Alley all on ‘is lonesome,” a voice said in his ear.

_Knockturn Alley? Could a name be more on the nose?_ He remembered Captain Short and the pang returned. He pushed through. _If the very name of the alley suggests underworld activities, then—_

“Ignorant perhaps, sir, but also purposeful. I have nothing you want, but I believe you might have something I need.” The man holding him was strong, but not large, he could tell by the hand on his arm and the forearm around his neck. He took a gamble. “Or at least, your employers might.”

The man released him, and Artemis turned to confront a weasly looking man with a bald, tattooed head and wearing a dark overcoat three sizes too big. At least it’s not a robe.

The man squinted at him. “Ye can’t have what ye need ‘less ye have what I want.”

“Gold, I presume.” Artemis shook his head. “Not an ingot. But if you have what I need, I can get what you want.”

The man frowned. “How?”

Artemis inhaled through his nose and managed not to gag on the smell of refuse and rot. “Let’s just say, I feel rather at home here.” He smiled, and the man drew back out of primal fear: the man probably didn’t even know he’d done it.

“This way,” he said. “Then we’ll see if you belong here.”

Artemis followed his attacker down the alley and into a side alley, through a door labelled “Borgin and Burkes Employee Entrance.” His spirits lifted as soon as they entered the main gallery.

“Magic antiques,” he murmured. He tapped the glass on an opal necklace. “Fascinating.”

His guide had slithered away as Artemis perused, and was replaced by a tall, thin man with oily hair and a more oily smile. “Me name’s Borgin, of Borgin and Burkes. What can I do for you, wizardling?”

“My textbooks aren’t doing it for me, and I thought perhaps you’d have books on more— taboo subjects,” the Muggle began, his gaze flicking over the rafters, where implements of torture hung. He also noticed the lack of electricity: the shop, like the rest of Diagon Alley, seemed stuck in pre-Industrial times. “But I see now my imagination wasn’t nearly wild enough.”

“If you want books, go to Flourish ’n Blotts,” Borgin said. “If you want real magic, you come here.”

Artemis nodded. “Indeed.” He leaned over the glass counter, brushing aside the human bones scattered there. “And I am in need of some real magic. The safe sort over at Hogwarts hasn’t been doing it for me.”

Mr. Borgin leaned back, but the tight skin of his face stretched in a smirk. “I’ve always said the place has been going downhill since Dumbledore took over.”

Artemis latched on. “I’d like to spice things up a bit.”

The proprietor winked. “I have just the thing.” Mr. Borgin led Artemis between thin, overcrowded aisles, the young man tapping items with his wand behind his back as he walked. Sometimes, when he thought about taking an item before he tapped it, a smart zap would be delivered to the wand.

_Anti-theft spells,_ Artemis thought. _Of course. But no cameras or sensors._

“Here we are.”

Artemis gave the specter of a man his full attention as he unveiled a ivory broach on a velvet cushion. “The Broach of Lady Onyx de Wimmell,” he said with a flourish of a long, bony hand. “The lady would give this broach to others she despised. When gifted, the image is that of a beautiful woman, but her effects are deadly, bring catastrophic bad luck to everyone around the owner. When her fun was done, the lady de Wimmell would call the broach back to her, full of all the bad memories of her victim which she could watch at her leisure until she gifted it again.”

“Fascinating,” Artemis said, crouching to peer through the glass. “I have a few classmates I’d like to try this on. How much are you asking?”

“For a forward-thinking wizard such as yourself—“ Borgin pretended to consider “—5,000 Galleons.”

Artemis pretended to be shocked. “5,000? I doubt you bought it for more than two.”

“According to my associate, you can’t even pay for a safety pin, much less an artifact of this power,” Borgin countered.

“Yes,” he smiled, “but stealing 2,000 is much less work than five.”

Borgin smiled in return. “Unfortunately, I can’t show any charity with this particular piece. I’m never sure what the broach considers ‘gifting.’”

Artemis shrugged. “Fair enough.”

He didn’t have much use for vindictive outwear, anyway. He made a great show of putting his wand in his robe’s inner pocket, watching Borgin watch the motion out of the corner of his eye. With his guide thus diverted and convinced the source of his power was in his pocket, he retrieved his pen tazer from his outer pocket. As Borgin led him back through the stacks, Artemis released the tazer’s safety, whistling one of his own compositions to cover the whine it made as it charged. Then, he touched the live current to a shelf.

The effect was immediate and more severe than he’d supposed. The protection spells overworked, then exploded under the strange attack, catapulting its stock into the adjacent isle. Borgin gave a small cry of dismay, rushing around the corner to inspect the damage. By the etherial wailing and acidic hissing, Artemis guessed it was extensive. Quickly, before the tattooed henchman materialized to investigate the commotion, he applied a much smaller charge to the opposite shelves, where he’d noticed some items that might come in handy. It took a couple frustrating seconds, but these protection spells gave up with much less gravitas than the first. He stuffed as many artifacts into his pockets as he could and retreated silently into the main lobby. By this time, Borgin was yelling for his assistant, but he was nowhere to be seen. Artemis took advantage and emptied the shop’s till before disappearing into the dark umbra of the alley.


	5. Meanwhile...

> **[fanficoverdose](https://fanficoverdose.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Foaly- are you aware of Artemis'... predicament? Do you know how you're going to get him back? And finally, do you think broomsticks could ever be a thing in our reality?

I wasn’t, but after your ask I checked the blog, and got several angry phone calls from Butler. So Artemis got himself stuck in another dimension, did he?  _Again._  We should get the boy a T-shirt.

As far as getting him back, after I weigh the pros and cons of Artemis being gone for a while, I’ll run some tests.

Broomsticks already are a thing. You use them to sweep, which is a lot more functional than riding one. If you want to fly with efficiently and comfortably, you’d buy some of my Whisper Wings.


	6. Platform 9 3/4

> **[aurorastardust13](https://aurorastardust13.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Artemis, do you like the band Steam Powered Giraffe? If so who is your favorite member?

 

“Steam Powered Giraffe?” I’m not familiar, is it a band an American teenager would fancy? I’m taking on an American alias. Apparently it’s not believable that I’m just now starting at Hogwarts as a thirteen-year-old from the British isles (I assume that’s how old this body is, I was much older when I teleported). I’m now Arthur Fowl, a Kansan transfer student from the Ilvermorny School.

I was able to get all the needed paperwork thanks to one of the items I acquired, a calligraphy set that forges whatever documents one could ever need.

I’m now at Platform 9 ¾ waiting for the train to the school— an interesting work of magic, that, creating a wormhole with a fixed point. I’ll have to return and study it if I can: perhaps the mechanics of it can help me get home. Though I must admit I’m quite excited, the kind of excitement one feels on the brink of discovery.

Nervous, though? No. I’ve not been to a school I couldn’t take advantage of. Hogwarts will be putty in the hands of Artemis— for the time Arthur— Fowl the Second.

 


	7. "Arthur" Fowl and the Sorting Hat

“Arthur Fowl!”

Artemis purposefully relaxed his stance as he sauntered up to the Sorting Hat, the only one of his year having to be sorted since he was the only transfer student. He’d guessed there was some sort of house system by all the different colors the children wore, and he could make guesses at what they meant by the behavior of said children, but when he’d been asked what house he’d been in at Ilvermorny, he’d only managed to answer (in character of course), “Erm— the cool one.”

He was lucky the student who had asked was a first year and a bit of a dunce.

Artemis hadn’t been nervous coming into the school— he’d gotten a read of all the teachers upon entering the Great Hall and didn’t see any problems on that front, and his peers never concerned him— but he was nervous now. A hat which could read minds? He hated the idea– at least the idea of wearing it– in any situation, but especially now.

Fortunately, Artemis was a master at training his own thoughts, and he’d done even more research into extreme meditation since Opal’s year-long coma before the Zeto Probe incident. He entered a small island on his mind and took even breaths as he let all of his secrets fall into a void around him. He cherry picked certain words— elf, magic, centaur— which he thought would reinforce his disguise. Then, he built up a fort of fabricated facts around himself about Arthur’s life, a facade to hide the genius beneath.

As he sat on the stool, almost in a daze, most of Artemis Fowl’s identity was inert and only Arthur remained. The Sorting Hat descended onto his head, perching on top of his brow ridge.

“Herm, and interesting one,” it said. “A wizard from the Americas, or at least you think you are, or— wait a tick.”

Artemis heard a knocking outside the Arthur fort.  _Anyone home?_  A voice asked from inside his thoughts.

“Yes,” he said. Let the games begin. “I am from America, from Kansas, in fact. My Dad’s an airplane engineer in Hutchinson.”

_So you’re a Muggle born, then?_

Artemis’s lip curled. “My parents are both human, yes.”

_How did you do at our sister school?_

“My transcripts should tell you all you need to know about that.”

_What class did you excel in?_

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he said, parroting a class name he’d heard in passing.

_Your favorite spell?_

Artemis crossed his arms, annoyed. “Shouldn’t you know?”

_Normally I would, but somehow you’re blocking me. Students your age normally haven’t mastered Occlumency. Ah, a thought just flew by that you don’t know what that is._

He bristled. “I’m using a Muggle technique. Hurry up, if you please. There are fifty-seven other students to be sorted today.”

He heard the Hat scratch at the Arthur walls.  _Alright, but I don’t trust you. I’m putting in a word with Dumbledore and your House Headmaster._

“Speaking of which, what house am I?”

The Sorting Hat scrunched up on his head in a cloth-y frown.  _Your past might be a mystery to me, but what house you should be in is textbook._  Artemis and the confused audience waited with baited breath.

“Slytherin!” The Hat bellowed.

A table of students under a green banner cheered and wolf-whistled. Artemis sighed as the Sorting Hat detached from him and he strolled over to the table, allowing the wizards to pat him on the back and shake his hand.

“You really gave that old moldy cap what for!” one said.

“I never seen it so irritated,” said another.

Artemis nodded and made adequate witty replies, but as soon as he sat the Arthur facade crumbled and he hid his face behind steepled fingers. Now the real work began.


	8. Meanwhile 2

> **[time-for-corn](http://time-for-corn.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Hey! I love all of you!!!

 

**Juliet** : Awww, you’re so sweet!

**Holly** : We really appreciate all of you. Isn’t that right—?

**Holly** : No. He. Hasn’t.

**Butler** : *gulps*

 

> **[nerdydowntherabbithole](https://nerdydowntherabbithole.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Hey guys, you tell Holly what happened? If so, how's her reaction? Also do you guys have any favorite teas?

**Foaly:** We told her.

**Butler:** That took about 5 minutes.

**Foaly:** And then we had to listen to her lecture us about keeping secrets, at least where Artemis is concerned.

**Butler:** That lasted 124 minutes. Also, I like darjeeling tea.

**Foaly:** I think I downed a whole gallon of chamomile after that lecture.

 


	9. A Muggle-born in Slytherin

Artemis was gratified to know his harrowing glares and standoffish attitude worked just as well on magical students as non-magical ones (he refused to use the term “Muggle,” even in his thoughts). In the Slytherin dormitory, only one unfortunate youth attempted to approach him.

“Not only is he a Mudblood, but a Yank at that!” a platinum blond boy pretended to mutter to his friends, two stupid-looking boys, as they approached Artemis’s bed. “What brings you to our side of the pond anyhow, Fowl? Your daddy get tired of growing corn?”

Artemis was unfazed. As school bullying went, he’d received—and dealt— worse. What irritated him was his inability to break character and wipe the floor with this whelp.

“What?” he asked, cupping a hand around his ear. “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you. Maybe you should take the silver spoon out of your mouth, Malfoy.”

Draco Malfoy sneered. “I only sound like this because it makes me gag to talk to you, _Fowl_. You’re as foul as your name.”

“And you’re as obvious as yours.” Artemis took a small object from his suitcase, one of the artifacts he’d stolen from Borgin and Burkes.

“Slytherin belong to purebloods. You’ll never fit in here, _Arty_.”

At this, Artemis seethed. Even as Arthur, the infernal nickname followed him.

“I understand that your racism is most likely inbred, just like you are,” he hissed. “But it’s never too late to teach an old mutt new tricks.”

As Draco counted the number of ways Artemis had insulted him in his last statement, Artemis activated the artifact. Suddenly, Draco’s green and bronze tie twisted around his neck and pulled him kicking and screaming toward the nearest window.

 _Ah_ , Artemis thought, looking down at the tie clip in his hand. _So that’s what it does._ He took his finger off the snake insignia in its center, and Draco collapsed to the ground before the cursed object could finish the job and throw him to his death.

“How’d you do that?” one of the oafs demanded as the other helped their gang leader to his feet.

Artemis frowned. “I cast a spell.”

“You can’t cast spells without talking!” the other said.

He backtracked. There were so many rules he still didn’t know. “I said it under my breath.”

“You’re not allowed to cast spells outside of class.” The first accused.

Artemis didn’t much care what rules he’d broken, and Draco, now standing on his own and brandishing his wand, didn’t seem to care either.

“You’re going to regret that Fowl.”

Artemis blanched, kicking himself that he didn’t foresee this as an option. He doubted the school had taught them any harmful spells, but he knew better than to take the chance. He took out his own false wand and poised his thumb over the tie clip once again.

Draco opened his mouth, no doubt to yell whatever punishment he had in store, when another, deeper and drier voice asked,

“And just what is going on here?”

A tall, hawk-nosed man in all black rose like a thundercloud behind Draco, who paled instantly. In a blink, his wand was concealed and he was all snivels.

“ _Headmaster_ Snape, the new boy tried to kill me with magic!”

“‘Kill’ is a bit of an overstatement, professor,” Artemis said. He recognized the Potions professor from the Great Hall. The man had been less than pleased when “Arthur” had been assigned to Slytherin, and after Draco’s racist tirade he could guess why.

“The only Muggle-born in Slytherin should know his place,” Snape droned, “and your place is not to state anything, Fowl.”

At that moment, Artemis wished profusely that Snape had been wearing a tie. But that option of retaliation lost to him, he only nodded at the professor’s admonishment.

He didn’t regret making his parents human when he’d been devising his alibi. He hadn’t wanted to take the chance that wizarding bloodlines were closely monitored, and he still stood by his decision. But it did have the disadvantage of making him the only human-born in a eugenics-obsessed house. Artemis wondered if this were the Sorting Hat’s revenge for his being difficult. He made a note to pull out all the hat’s stitching before he went home.

“I’d rather not punish the entire house for a foolish squabble,” Snape was saying. “Detention in the Forbidden Forest, Fowl. Tomorrow night.”

As Draco and his friends sniggered behind their headmaster, Artemis fought to keep a defeated expression and not match their grins.

 _Forbidden Forest_. He catalogued the name away in his brain. _I can’t think of another place I’d rather be._


	10. Artemis in Potions Class

Before “Arthur” served detention in the Forbidden Forest, he first had to survive a whole day of school. History of Magic was the simplest to sit through, and though he feigned disinterest to fit in with the rest of his sleeping classmates, Artemis committed the entire monotone lesson to memory. Astronomy was easy but far less interesting, as even in this magical world he didn’t believe stars billions of lightyears away had any effect on reality.

As he followed the other Slytherins from class to class, he noticed the whispers and points in his direction out of the corner of his eye. Word of his altercation with Draco must have made it around the small school.

Curse that hat for putting him in such a conspicuous position.

Ignoring their curious gazes, he made a mental list of ways he could cheat the system and pass as a wizard. Many of these he had to scrap due to the pre-Industrial times the Hogwarts school insisted on living in: there were no electrics he could strip, no wire to tap. If he wanted to use a computer chip, he’d have to make one himself.

Barbaric, he thought, taking a seat on the fringe of his house’s half of the Potions dungeon and setting up his work station. He ignored the curious looks from the Gryffindors and stared resolutely at his cauldron.

“The Slytherins are attacking their own house, now? Wicked.” A redheaded boy behind and to the right of Artemis murmured.

“Maybe they’ll knock each other off and spare us the trouble,” his spectacled friend replied.

A girl with wild brown hair across the aisle from him shushed the boys behind her the way Juliet did when his brothers were making a racket. He wondered briefly if time passed the same back home, or not at all, or if he were losing out on years of the twins’ lives. Artemis suppressed the urge to tap his foot impatiently. As he weighed the pros and cons of skipping class, Professor Snape swept into the room.

Artemis learned early on that Snape was an egomaniac, and would rather the students behold his oily glory than take notes in class. Artemis noticed the girl across from him had devised a way to take notes undetected, with a little half-quill and a folded-up piece of parchment in her lap, easily concealable if the professor were to stalk the aisles.

As the lecture continued, it became apparent who Snape’s favorites were— Draco and his lot— and who he despised: Artemis himself and the spectacled boy on the Gryffindor side named Potter.

I’ve heard that name in the Slytherin dorm, Artemis remembered. They especially hate him for some reason. Perhaps he could be a useful ally.

“Are you listening to me, Fowl?” Snape sneered.

Artemis jerked his gaze from the glass cases of herbs and potions in the back.

“Always,” he replied, putting a little twang in his Midwestern accent.

“Then you can tell me why you’d mix asphodel into a potion to increase agility?”

Artemis grinned, and the line between Snape’s impressive eyebrows deepened.

“Ah ah ah, don’t spread misinformation, professor,” he said, ticking a finger back and forth. “You’d only put asphodel in an agility potion if you wanted to agilely put them to sleep. An herb like bladderwrack would be much more effective.”

The professor’s thin lips twisted into a snarl. “One point to Slytherin for the correct answer, but one point from Slytherin for your petulance, Fowl.”

Though Artemis could answer all the questions correctly (he’d read all his textbooks on the train ride to Hogwarts, and the fact that botany didn’t change much between dimensions also helped), knowledge was no substitute for magical ability. So Artemis found himself staring at a stagnant pool of herbs in the hands-on portion of the class.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” Malfoy mocked over his bubbling cauldron.

Artemis stewed. He knew he’d added all the ingredients impeccably. But the last, crucial component was a spell, and though he’d tried to summon up some vestige of the old fairy magic, he couldn’t get it to work.

If only I knew what the magic did for the potion chemically, he thought, I could reverse engineer—

“Do you need help?”

He looked up to see it had been the brunette Gryffindor who addressed him. Behind her, Potter and the redheaded boy gaped.

“Quite,” he said, “I can’t seem to get the spell right.”

After a quick glance to make sure the professor was preoccupied with yelling at a student in the front row, she scooted to the edge of her bench and leaned over to look into his cauldron. She gave him an approving nod.

“It all looks good there. How are you saying the spell?”

He knew he’d been saying it correctly, but desperate times—

“Purr-iffi-mixto,” he intoned, his Western accent even more pronounced.

The girl stifled a snort, and he knew he’d failed well.

“No no, it’s pronounced Purifimixtio.”

“Purifimixtio,” he repeated.

“Right!” she whispered. “Now, say it over your cauldron while swooping your wand like this.” She made a complication wand gesture. Artemis didn’t have to pretend to mess that one up.

“No no, like this,” she waved her wand over his cauldron. “Purifimixtio.” Bubbles sprang to life in the cauldron. Before the girl could realize she helped him cheat, he beamed at her. Though he knew he wasn’t a heartthrob, he counted on his moderate good looks and teenage hormones to distract her. She smiled back, a bit shy. It worked.

“Thanks for your help, um—“

“Hermione Granger,” she said, extending a hand. He grasped it.

“Arthur Fowl,” he returned.

She nodded. “I’ve heard about you. You’re the only Muggle born in Slytherin.” She motioned to herself with her free hand. “I’m Muggle born, too.”

“This is the guy everyone’s been talking about?” the ginger boy exclaimed, jabbing his thumb toward Artemis. “The one who nearly strangled Draco with his own tie?”

“No wonder Snape dislikes you so much,” Potter said.

“Yes well,” Artemis said, extricating his hand from Hermione’s when he realized he was still holding it, “he can join the club. I’m not generally well-liked.”

“Yes, why did you get put in Slytherin anyway?” Potter asked. “You don’t seem to fit with them. Maybe Ravenclaw, or even with us.”

Artemis grinned vampirically, and the other boy blinked. “The Sorting Hat is also a club member.”

“I wonder where your wizard genes come from,” Hermione said.

Artemis forced a laugh. “Too far back for anyone in my family to remember. Perhaps it was the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Is she famous in the Americas?” the redhead asked.

Artemis did a double-take. Had he made a fatal error? Was this dimension so divorced from his that even cinema had taken a different turn?

“No, idiot, he’s making a joke,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “The Wicked Witch of the West is a character from an American film.”

“Ron grew up in the wizard world,” Potter explained. “He doesn’t know much about Muggle pop culture.”

“If you can’t make any friends in Slytherin,” Hermione rejoined, twiddling her fingers, “then you should hang out with us some time. We study in the library and hang on in the common areas a lot, so—“

A library. Of course a school would have one. “I’d be stoked to go to the library.”

Her freckled face lit up. “Of course! We can—“

“Put all your plans on hold.”

In their chatting, the four hadn’t noticed the dark shadow encroaching on them.

“If you like our transfer student so much,” Snape said with too much sugar in his gravelly voice,” you can join him for detention. Tonight.”

Ron and Potter groaned as Hermione and Artemis exchanged apologetic glances.


	11. Classes

 

> **[physikalgenes](https://physikalgenes.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
>  
> 
> To Artemis: what research are you currently working on?

Back in my dimension I had been working on a transportation device. It ended up working better than anticipated, and now I’m stuck in a school for magical children when I’m no longer a child and do not have the patience for educational institutions. But that’s nothing new.

 

 

I’m sorry your classes have been stressful. I can relate now.

I have sat in on a few classes already, and I admit they are far more interesting than any class I attended at St. Bartleby’s. My favorite thus far is Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by Remus Lupin, who is an intriguing man, especially with his… disposition. Really, there is so much to learn here.

However, the classes it’ll be easiest to pass are Astronomy and History of Magic. The rest I’ll have to either concoct a way to fake, or resign myself to failing, which does not, and has not, ever sat well with me.

**Qwan:** Artemis Fowl is a singular creature, who I’m not sure isn’t more fairy than human at this point. Regardless, he is the future of the human and fairy species, and their possible co-habitation.

**Qwan:** You didn’t have to slam that door open. It’s automatic, it would have opened on its own.


	12. Biding Time

> **[sos-fandoms](https://sos-fandoms.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Artemis, if you’re having trouble getting the joke Juliet made, try watching the movie Iron Man. It should clear things up. And if you do watch it, please let me know how you liked it!!

 

 

I did watch the film in question with my family. My brothers are getting to the age of enjoying superheroes, the cinema versions in particular.

I wasn’t interested, but I fit into very few target demographics. From an impartial perspective, the first Iron Man film is above average. I do get the reference now, though. Ha ha, Juliet.

As far as finding the headmaster, I’m trying to avoid all authority figures after my last run in. I’ll keep that in mind as a last resort, though.

Because I have no one else to vent to, I am exceedingly frustrated with the wizard world’s lack of basic machinery. Do you know how long it took me to find a basic Phillips head screwdriver? Two hours too long.

The ask is referring to[ this previous one.](https://af-answers.tumblr.com/post/174879025397/artemis-do-you-still-wear-the-coin-that-holly#notes)

**Meanwhile...**

> **[pumblepenguin](http://pumblepenguin.tumblr.com/) asked:**
> 
> Holly - do you relish that time you punched Arty in the face? Has it ever come up again? (More importantly, have you done it again since?)

My feelings about the punch, like most of my feelings regard Artemis, go back and forth. Some days that punch is a good memory, and some days I would like to hit him again.

Right now, though, my constant sentiment about Artemis takes priority: he’s my best friend, and I want him back.

Unfortunately, I have to wait on the Nerds in order to go get him. Artemis’s trans-dimensional device was on his person, so we don’t have that to work off of. Thankfully, Foaly is (too) knowledgable about Arty’s open projects and processes, and he’s confident he can track down a signal, especially if Artemis is trying to fix the device on his end.

We latch onto that signal, Qwan makes a magical zip line, and I zip across and fetch him. Easy peasy.

~~And when I do see him again, maybe I’ll punch him for being such an idiot.~~

~~~~


	13. Artemis Serves Demented Detention

After dinner, “Arthur” Fowl and his three fellow delinquents followed Professor Snape single-file to the fringe of a dark forest that reached into the Hogwarts grounds with spindly fingers. Just out of their reach stood a squat cottage with a Butler-sized door, the friendly orange light from its windows belaying the blue shadows of the woods.

Snape led them to the hut, and Artemis could hear someone humming a Scottish folk song inside.

“Hagrid!” Snape snapped in lieu of knocking. “I have helpers for you tonight.”

A clatter from inside, then the door opened. A mammoth of a man, a foot taller than Butler and harrier than Mulch (which Artemis hadn’t thought possible), stood in the threshold, backlit by the firelight.

“Ah, this is a familiar buncha mis’creants,” he said warmly, and the Gryffindors smiled back in kind.

“It’s not commendable that you know these students by their misbehaviors,” Snape pointed out. “Hopefully you won’t know  _this_ one as well.” He nudged Artemis forward with a knuckle between his shoulder blades.

“Ah, the new boy,” Hagrid nodded.

Artemis nodded back, though he didn’t like being so well-known. Small-town living was not for him.

“I got jus’ the task fer ‘um, don’t you worry Professor Snape,” the giant said.

Snape’s upper lip curled as he looked down on the children. “Yes, please make them useful.” Then with a flourish of his black robes, he retreated back to the castle.

Handing each child a burlap sack of something soft and oozing, Hagrid led the children into the forest. The giant and the three other children chatted the whole way like old friends, but Artemis didn’t mind being left out. The conversation was a gold mine.

“Where’s Fang?” Ron asked.

“Guarding the homestead. Don’ worry, ya’ll ‘ll be sticking with me this time. Can’t be too careful with those dementors about.”

Harry visibly shuddered.

“It’s alright Harry,” Ron said. “On a warm night like this, they’ll be easy to spot. Just avoid any cold spots.”

“Once you can feel the cold, they’re already too close,” Hermione pointed out. She huffed. “I hate how the Council is letting those monsters on Hogwarts property! Even if there is a murderer on the loose, how much danger can we be in at Hogwarts?”

“Have you had blinders on the last two years?” Ron quipped, grunting under the weight of his burden.

“As long as your’n doing nothing illegal, the dementors’ll leave you be,” Hagrid said.

Artemis swallowed hard. He’d broken almost every rule he’d come across since arriving in this dimension. And he’d heard of these “dementors” while doing reconnaissance on the school grounds, though he’d never seen them. Even the professors feared them, which wasn’t a good sign.

“‘Sides,” their guide continued. “Buckbeak ‘ll be joining us farther in. He’s hunting at the moment.”

“Awww, I love Buckbeak!” Hermione said, clapping her hands together.

“Who’s Buckbeak?” Artemis asked.

“He’s a hippogriff,” she said, falling back to join him at the end of the group. “One of the creatures Hagrid will be teaching us about this year. Oh, but there aren’t hippogriffs in America, are there?”

“No, but I’m familiar,” Artemis said. He drew on  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ which he’d read at the library that afternoon. “Griffins are more common in the States.”

She kept her eyes on her feet to avoid tripping on roots. “Why did you move to England, Arthur?”

He shrugged, adjusting his bag as he did. “It was kind of an accident.”

Before Hermione could pry more, he asked, “Why is this forest forbidden? It has a spooky atmosphere, but otherwise seems harmless.”

“Oh it’s far from harmless, believe me,” Ron interjected. “Murderous trees, centaurs, wolves—“

“Speakin’ of,” Hagrid interjected, putting down his own immense baggage. “‘Ere’s the place.” He opened the bag to reveal its contents: raw meat. “Bags’re enchanted to cover the smell,” he grinned. “Dumbledore did it fer me!”

_Ahh, Dumbledore,_ Artemis thought, dropping his bag with relief and revulsion along with his peers.  _The infamous headmaster. I wonder if the Hat carried out its threat of informing him about me._

“Our job is ta spread out this leftover meat from the kitchens over as wide a range as possible for all the different roaming packs in these parts. The cooks’ve been complaining of seeing a wolf rummaging through the garbage bins, so Dumbledore is hoping this will sort out the problem.”

Ron and Hermione glanced curiously at Harry, who looked down at his shoes with furrowed brows.

_He knows something about the intruding wolf,_ Artemis observed, tilting his head.  _Something that scares him._

Their mission explained, the five split up with their offending bags.

“Stay in yelling distance, now!” Hagrid called, and the children all yelled their affirmative.

Artemis exhaled deeply and freely as the others disappeared from his line of sight. He’d only been at the school about 48 hours, but it felt like an eternity since he’d been alone with his thoughts.

As he wandered about for an adequate place to dump his cargo, he ran through several different plots to get back home. All of them involved technology he didn’t have, or a magic he didn’t understand. By the time he’d abandoned his task in the root system of a tree, he’d come to an unsatisfactory conclusion: he’d have to find a powerful wizard to confide in about his predicament.

He wandered out of smelling distance of the rotting offal, sat on a fallen tree, and gazing up at the stars in an uncharacteristic bout of sentimentality and longing. He missed his home. He missed being in a place he knew, with predictability and control. He missed his family and friends. As he offhandedly identified constellations in the night sky, he went back and forth as to whether he did or didn’t want time to pass while he was in this magical dimension.  _If time doesn’t pass,_ he reasoned,  _I’ll be back home before they know to miss me, and I won’t hurt them like—_ his hands balled into fists on his thighs—  _like I have in the past. But what if I can’t find a way back, or it takes me years? Any catastrophe could happen, and I could return home years, even decades older than when I left. In that case, it would be beneficial if they knew I was missing, so they could use their superior technology to rescue me from this Elizabethan world. However, who knows how long that would take, and by that time I could have missed so much of the twins lives, caused so much grief to Butler, and my parents, and—_

Artemis’s vertebrae straightened like a snapped whip and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The forest was as silent as ever, but he knew suddenly and unequivocally that he was not alone. He sat stock still, his mind racing to plan an escape from the unknown enemy. Unfortunately, the trees’ tangled roots prevented any retreat faster than a careful walk, and without knowing his opponent he couldn’t account for its weaknesses. If it had any. Artemis’s blood ran cold and he began to tremble.

_Ahh, so that’s what it is,_ he thought.

He couldn’t see the dementor floating around him, but the effects matched the ones Ron and Hermione described. Artemis, at a loss of what to do, fell into his default mode when in imminent and extreme danger: he talked.

“So,” he began, swallowing to slick his throat. “How does this work exactly? Do you sense guilt? If so, I must be a walking fog horn to your lot.”

His skin felt like ice, and his breath came in short spurts. He imagined if he were able to see the eldritch horror before him, he wouldn’t be able to speak at all.

“You’re prison wardens, right? Or some sort of bounty hunter? Believe me, the bounty on me would be slim. I don’t even exist in this dimension.”

He couldn’t move, but as the sense of doom compressed his chest, restricted his lungs, 

he found he didn’t have the motivation to escape.

_What’s the point? Wouldn’t everyone’s lives be easier, better even, if I weren’t around?_  He remembered his mother, sick with the magic he’d afflicted her with, Holly’s sad face when he had disappointed her yet again. Why was it so hard for him to meet their expectations? He couldn’t ever be good enough in the ways that mattered, so he’d always excelled everywhere else. Now, though, he saw the futility of it all. The memories of Butler’s smiles, Mother’s hugs, the satisfaction of a job well done, all these were so distant now.

Artemis went limp, falling backwards over the log he sat on. Somewhere inside him, he knew he should catch himself, or brace for impact, but he couldn’t be bothered. As it turned out, there was no need. Cold, invisible rods curled around the back of his neck, lowering him to the ground and cushioning the severe impact.

_They don’t want their prey unconscious,_ he guessed, his blank blue eyes finding the Cygnus constellation in the center of the sky.

His back arched spasmodically as the breath, and more than his breath, was sucked from his lungs. He retreated to the back of his mind to escape the pain, but he thought he heard someone scream. Was it him? No, too high-pitched. His vision began to cloud, spotting black around the edges.

_So many fours,_ he thought.  _Which makes sense, I suppose. I am about to die._

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

Suddenly, the black was blasted away by a purifying white light and the life flooding back into his lungs, making him cough convulsively. When his vision cleared, a man stood above him, his wand casting a shield-like spell against a retreating cloaked nightmare. As the blinding light shield faded, Hermione’s head popped into “Arthur’s” field of vision, her small but deceptively strong hands helping him into a sitting position.

“Oh my god, Arthur, are you OK? You should have called sooner! Well, maybe you couldn’t, the dementors can be so paralyzing,” she blabbered, taking his head in her trembling hands. “ _Lumos,”_  she said, checking his eyes for responses to a light from the tip of her wand.

His savior readjusted the lapel of his patched robes as he turned to face the students. He crouched in front of the afflicted boy, brushing greying hair out of his face to scrutinize him with green eyes.

“What ‘appened?” Hagrid gasped, blundering onto the scene with Harry and Ron under each arm. He noticed the newcomer as he put the boys down. “And Professor Lupin, whatter you doing ‘ere?”

“Arthur was attacked by a dementor,” Hermione told them, the tears evident in her voice.

Ron cried out in disbelief while Harry stared at their fallen peer, his green eyes round and harrowed.

“He’ll be fine,” the professor announced. “Though the question remains:  _why was_ young Master Fowl attacked?”

“What are you insinuating?” Hermione demanded.

“Dementors aren’t picky,” Harry seconded, his voice soft and eyes lowered. “At least, in my experience.”

The group was silent for a moment, “Arthur” looking from person to person curiously, as if trying to remember where he was and why.

“We can discuss this more later,” Lupin conceded. “Right now, the boy needs to go to the infirmary, and I need to speak with Dumbledore.” He held out a hand to the student. “Arthur, can you stand?”

He grinned, and it looked like sunshine. “I believe so, good sir, but I’m not Arthur.” He took the hand and shook it heartily. “Hello, my name is Orion.”


	14. Orion is not a Slytherin

“Let me see if I am understanding this correctly,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. His gaze flicked from Lupin, to Snape, to Orion, who sat cross-legged on the infirmary bed. “Art—  _Master Fowl_ was attacked by a dementor in the Forbidden Forest, and when he came to, he was another person?”

Lupin nodded. “That seems to be the case. I am not familiar with Arthur’s normal behavior, but the other children were thoroughly shaken.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Snape?”

“The boy has undergone an obvious change,” he said, raising an eyebrow at the oblivious youth. “He seems— how do I put it?— much more  _Hufflepuff.”_

“What’s that?” Orion asked. “A kind of treat? Or—“ he stopped, freezing in place like a computer thinking. “Oh, it’s a school house. Got it!”

“He obviously had some kind of psychological split,” Snape whispered. “We should have his parents come get him, or send him to St. Mungo’s.”

“I’ve tried contacting his family. I can’t reach them,” Dumbledore said. “But before we do anything drastic, let me talk to him. Perhaps he can be reasoned with.”

Dismissing the two professors, the wizened headmaster sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“You must be the Merlin of this tale,” Orion said before he could open his mouth.

Dumbledore chuckled. “You overestimate me, young wizard. But I’m flattered.”

“I’m good at flattering. Better than Artemis, anyway,” he bragged. “And I’m not a wizard, I’m a knight.”

“I’m sure,” Dumbledore said gently. “And who is Artemis? Can I speak with him?”

Orion’s face went blank again, though his nose scrunched up as he thought. “No,” he decided. “The scary monster hurt Artemis. He’s resting now.”

“Hurt  _Artemis_?” The wizard frowned. “Is Artemis Arthur, or another of your personalities?”

Orion put a finger to his own lips, then tapped the side of his nose.

Dumbledore leaned back. A run-in with a dementor had never caused a case of split personality before, and the boy could have had the disorder before transferring to Hogwarts. Suddenly the Sorting Hat’s warning about Arthur being duplicitous made all too much sense.

“You get some rest, Orion,” he said, patting the boy’s hand while looking off into the distance. “We’ll have a proper doctor in to look at you in the morning.”

Orion hopped under the covers with all too much energy for someone who’d just had a run-in with Azkaban’s hell beasts, pulling the blanket up to his chin like a child in a storybook.

“G’night!” he called as the headmaster reached the door.

“Yes, erm, see you in the morning.”

* * *

“I feel fine,” Orion said to himself, but not only himself, as he wandered the halls of Hogwarts at night. “I don’t need to see any witch doctor— though I suppose that’s all they have around here.”

He waved to the curious paintings watching him.

“This place is just the world I was made for! Wizards, dragons, monsters, swords and sorcery!” He rapped the breastplate of a suit of armor as he passed. Orion not only didn’t know the meaning of “discretion,” he was the antithesis of it. “Thank you for bringing us here, good sir.”

Artemis rubbed his forehead wearily. Of all the things that could have happened… this was the worst.

“ _You’re welcome. The stairs down to the Slytherin common area are down the third hall to the left. Even if you aren’t tired, I am, and we need to act normal._ ”

“I want to see Holly,” Orion protested, and a painted lady shushed him. He continued in hushed tones: “Where is she?” 

Artemis sat in the chair provided for him and steepled his fingers. Orion had his advantages, but was a prat and nearly impossible to control. Nearly.

“ _Holly isn’t in this dimension,_ ” he said. “ _I’m trying to get us back to her, back home, which is why you need to give control back to me.”_

“A quest to find my fair maiden?” Orion slid down the bannister to the common room, staining Artemis’s trousers. “An adventure!”

Artemis gave up. He knew when he was being ignored, and he was too tired to fight. He felt like the dementor had drained the motivation out of him.

“Go to sleep,” he grunted, and for once, Orion complied.

* * *

Orion proceeded to be the worst Slytherin in Hogwarts history. He sat with Harry and his friends during meal periods, laughed loudly and joyously, and was kind and outgoing towards everyone. Frankly, he was an embarrassment, to no one more than Artemis.

“Orion,” Hermione said (he hadn’t spared any time reintroducing himself). She avoided his eyes as she picked at her lunch. “How are your classes going now that you’re— you?” Shortly after breakfast, Dumbledore had taken the three Gryffindors aside and explained Arthur’s disorder. He hoped this episode would only be temporary, but until then he asked them to keep an eye on the transfer student. Hermione was a bit disappointed in the change, but Harry and Ron loved new, fun Arthur.

“They’re going great!” Orion said. “I planted flowers in Herbology, had a nice nap through History of Magic—“ Ron snorted “— and the dashing steed who teaches Astronomy told me my future!”

“What did he say?” Harry asked, leaning over his steak sandwich.

Orion shrugged. “Something about death and destruction. All things I’ve conquered before.”

Ron guffawed, threatening to spray half-chewed chips everywhere. “This guy! He’s crazy, but he’s a riot!”

“Found your place, Fowl?” Draco looked down his nose at the four. His friends snickered behind him as if the comment were some great witticism. Ron stopped laughing. “Of course it would be with these losers.” 

“Who lost our duel, Malfoy?” Harry reminded, his hand braced on the table, ready to go toe-to-toe with the blonde youth at a moment’s notice.

“That was inconclusive,” Draco spat. “And I’m always ready for a rematch, Potter.” He grinned at Orion. “That is, if you can pull yourself away from your pansy boyfriend.” Now Harry did stand.

“I love pansies!” Orion chirped, standing too.

“Of course you do,” Draco said, keeping his eyes on Harry.

Orion’s eyes flashed with excitement. “But that aside, you have duels here?”

“ _No, stop._ ” Artemis protested, lurching out of his chair. “ _It’s not that kind of duel—“_

“I am a knight, and Butler has taught me everything he knows, I’m sure I could win a duel against this— no offense— thin, little trust fund baby.”

Draco didn’t understand most of what Orion said, but he always knew when he was being insulted.

“You think you can defeat me in magic,  _Yank?_ ” he hissed, jabbing Orion on the lapel. “The Quidditch field. Next free period.”

He stepped back as Professor Flitwick hurried over to break up the confrontation.

“Bring your friends,” he said, “so they can be embarrassed with you.”

Artemis sat in his chamber in his mind, his head in his hands. “ _What have you done.”_


	15. Choose your Weapon

> **[glitter-tornado](http://glitter-tornado.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Is that your owl? What's his name? Make sure he doesn't poop on you!
> 
>  

**Orion:** No, it was not Artemis’s owl. He didn’t see the point in getting a pet somewhere he won’t be staying long. I’d get a pet though! But it’d be something cool like a dragon or a puppy, not a bird.

 

> **[nerdydowntherabbithole](https://nerdydowntherabbithole.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Hey Artemis, Orion. How goes it?

 

Hello nerdygit, I’m not feeling too jolly at the moment. Apparently “duels” here involve spells and wizardry, something I am not trained in. Artemis has accumulated these “magical weapons”, but I’m not sure which– or combination of which– is best to use. We’ve been testing them on unsuspecting classmates all day to see what they do.

Here we have the “Tie Twister” (I named it), a tie clip that strangles a person with his own tie:

The Forgery Quill, kinda self-explanatory…

A rigormortised finger. It causes all the tendons in a person to contract and freeze for a few minutes.

Some galleons that, once placed on wood, can’t be picked up. The person who tries develops a mania in getting them off the floor.

A clown doll which, when held, causes uncontrollable laughter,

a box which unleashes bad luck on whomever it’s pointed at– I call it “Pandora’s Box”–

and a candle that makes everyone who inhales its fumes susceptible to suggestion. Artemis says this would be a good way to get out of the duel altogether, but a knight doesn’t back down!

And then we have some of Artemis’s trinkets: his phone ring and tazer pen. Artemis has made some suggestions, but none sound right! What do you all think?


	16. The Duel

Orion had the decency to be nervous as he walked onto the Quidditch green, his index finger curling and uncurling around his new wand. He’d carved a new one to accommodate the Danger Digit (the name he used for the rigor mortised finger) and to allow copper wires to be threaded through, running up his sleeve and attaching to the tazer hidden in his pocket. Once the tazer was activated, the current would pass through the hastily insulated wire to the tip. The wire inhibited his movement, but the finger had to be pointed at its target, and there wasn’t enough room in the wand for both without making it conspicuously long.

“ _Just remember,”_ Artemis said, standing at his wall-length window into the world, “ _you can only use the taser at the end of the duel, as it will mostly likely cause the wand to catch fire.”_

“I’ll put that on my long list of things to remember,” Orion growled.

“Remember what?” Hermione asked. The three Gryffindors had come to the duel to cheer him on, with Ron to act as his second.

“Oh nothing,” he said with his dazzling smile. “I’m running through the spells you taught me.”

“They go like this,” she said, counting them off on her fingers. “ _Expelliarmus_  for disarming,  _Accio_  for retrieving,  _Petrificus Totalus_ for paralyzing—“

“And  _Slugulus Eructo,_ ” Ron cut in. “Use that one on him. Please. It’d be a riot!”

“ _Petrificus Totalus_ ,” Orion repeated, ignoring Ron’s yelp when Hermione pinched him on the arm. “Got it.”

Most of the students on free period had come to the Quidditch field to watch the match, which included all of the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses. They threw insults at each other across the field as if they both had a stake in the match, even though the two dueling were both technically Slytherin.

Draco waited in the center with his second and Professor Flitwick, who would referee the match.

“So you showed,” Draco said, disappointment evident in his voice. He corrected his mood, smiling in a way that crinkled his nose. “It’ll be all the more satisfying to humiliate you in person.”

Orion didn’t have a comeback. Artemis was better at those. He was more adept at combat, he reminded himself as the professor went over the rules.

“Stand apart from each other, bow, and then I’ll count you off. You can begin on three. The first wizard to subdue their opponent wins.  _Subdue_ , Mr. Malfoy,” he said, wagging a knobby finger at the grinning boy. Orion’s eyebrows furrowed. So it was like that, was it? He’d felt bad about cheating, but not anymore. This foe was a proper villain, and a hero won against a villain no matter what.

Orion and Draco walked opposite directions from each other and turned at fifteen paces.

“One!” Professor Flitwick’s high voice echoed across the field. The audience in the stands quieted.

Orion shook out his shoulders, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Draco crouched, one leg stretched forward and the other bowed behind, his wand hanging loosely in his hand.

“Two!”

Orion took his wand from his pocket and repeated the paralyzation spell over and over in his mind. Draco flicked his wand into a waiting position and rocked back on his heel. Predatory. Confident. 

“Three!”

Orion’s wand arm shot up and he willed the Danger Digit to do its work as he yelled, “ _Petrificus Totalus!“_

 _“Expelliarmus!_ ” Draco yelled at the same time. Then, “ _Incarcerous_!”

The wand flew from Orion’s hand, and he gritted his teeth as the copper wire snapped against his skin. He lurched to chase his lost weapon, only to realize he couldn’t move his legs. Ropes appeared out of nothing to slither up his lower half to his torso, lassoing his arms to his chest as he fell to the ground.

This was it. And so quickly, too.

He heard a muffled yelp and a thud from Draco’s side of the field before the audience erupted into a confused mishmash of whoops and roars. Orion craned his neck, and was surprised to see Draco collapsed as well, his body crumpled up into angles all the way to his clawed fingers.

So the Danger Digit had worked, then.

“ _You don’t have much time._ ”

Orion heeded Artemis’s advice, contorting his arms as his eyes searched for a knot to use one of Butler’s 124 untying techniques on. Artemis knew more about untying than Butler, as he was usually the one tied up, but Orion didn’t have the time to access those memories at the moment. Bafflingly, these ropes didn’t seem to be tied, but where holding him tight of their own accord. Or rather, of Draco’s accord.

Speaking of Draco, his body was starting to relax, his locked jaw slackening and his arms going limp. After such a quick and extreme convulsion of all the muscles in his body, he shook as he struggled to his feet. But he did stand. Picking up his wand from where he dropped it, the blond boy limped over to his prone opponent, raising his wand.

“Very good, Draco, efficiently done,” Professor Flitwick nodded, toddling over from where he’d been observing a safe distance away. “Now release Mr. Fowl.”

Draco’s face contorted, but Orion couldn’t tell if it was a scowl or a wince, or left over from the rigor mortis curse. He didn’t lower his wand.

“ _Sectum_ —“

Orion didn’t need Artemis to yell “ _Slicing spell!”_  to know what it the word meant. Very few memories pervaded both of their personalities: Holly was one, Latin was another.

“ _Nolo_!” he yelled, desperately, shutting his eyes against the inevitable pain. A wave of blue energy erupted from him, starting around his torso and radiating outward. It tore at his clothes, vaporized the ropes around him, and knocked Draco and the professor away.

Artemis froze, his rapid train of thought halting so suddenly he almost gave himself whiplash. Was that what he thought it was? And if so, what did this all mean? Hadn’t he tried to perform the Ritual before coming to the school? And hadn’t it not worked? Then why…?

While his other half puzzled, Orion scrambled to his feet and stretched, not noticing the bleachers of students stunned into confused whispers. He hadn’t felt this good in  _ages_. He leveled his gaze on Draco, who army-crawled over to his banished wand, looking over his shoulder at the raven-haired youth with bald fear.

On a whim, Orion flicked his hand at the wand.

Nothing.

Maybe— “ _Accio_ ,” he said. The wand whizzed into his hand like they were opposing poles of a magnet. It buzzed for a moment, then faded into stillness, as if acclimatizing to his grip.

The stadium erupted. Hermione, Ron, and Harry sprinted over, Harry with his own wand in his hand. He’d been ready to disarm Draco before Orion had set off the magic bomb.

“Performing magic without a wand, I’ve never seen anything like it!” Harry said, clapping him on the back.

“How did you do that?” Ron yelled over the roaring students.

Orion blinked at him. Even Artemis was silent now, not offering any explanation. “I— I don’t know.”

Professor Flitwick bustled over and yanked the wand out of his hand. “What have you done, young man? How did you do it? How did you cheat?”

“I didn’t!” Orion said, crossing him arms. “At least— I won at the last all on my own.”

“No one is able to use magic without a wand, no one.” The professor said, wagging the wand in his face.

“But Orion is from the Americas,” Hermione pointed out. (Orion had an Irish accent, but he’d explained that his side of “Arthur’s” personality was an Irish knight.) “Wands weren’t used in the Americas until the Europeans settled there and the Ilvermorny school was established.” She bit her lip when Flitwick fixed his sharp gaze on her. “It could be— more natural for them there.”

“Besides,” Ron cut in, “all forms of magic are legal in a duel. And whatever he did out there, it was magic for sure.”

The professor scowled at Ron, then at the wand he held, then at Orion. “I can’t solve this here, not with all this racket! Come with me,” he stomped back toward Hogwarts. “We’re taking this up with Headmaster Dumbledore.”


	17. Of Two Minds

Artemis paced up and down his mental prison. It had been a week. A week! And Orion still didn’t let him out, didn’t let him at least instruct the dunce how to fix the trans-dimensional device hidden in their clothes chest.

The meeting with Dumbledore after the duel had gone well:

“There’s a simple solution to this conundrum, Professor,” the headmaster had said. “If the boy won the wand fairly, it should respond to him.”

Professor Flitwick reluctantly handed Draco’s wand to Orion, and the familiar buzzing returned. Orion looked at Dumbledore, unsure of what he was allowed to do: using magic had gotten him into trouble last time. Dumbledore smiled and nodded, gesturing with a knobby hand.

Orion lifted the wand. “ _Accio_ Hat!” The Sorting Hat whizzed off a high shelf into his waiting hand. Both Orion and Artemis grinned wolfishly at it before handing it to Dumbledore.

“There we have it!” he proclaimed, levitating the grumbling hat back to its resting place. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Professor, I’d like a word with Mr. Fowl.”

Once the professor had left, Dumbledore flicked his own wand toward the smug boy. “ _Expelliarmus_.”

Orion’s fingers burned as the wood yanked from his hand and clattered on the black marble floor at the other end of the room. All of Orion’s senses went on high alert, but Artemis watched with interest.

The wizard nodded to the wand across the room. “Call it back.”

Orion frowned, recognizing the challenge. He stretched out his hand toward the wand like a Jedi using the force. Artemis rolled his eyes. He’d forgotten the movie trilogy, but obviously his other half hadn’t.

“ _Accio_ wand,” Orion intoned. The wand flew back to his hand like a yoyo, and he caught it in his clenched fist.

“Most impressive,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. “And odd. Do many have such a proclivity in the US?”

“ _Tell him the truth,_ ” Artemis suggested. “ _We’re in much less danger of expulsion now that we have magic, and I trust him. He might be able to help us get back to Holly._ ”

Orion chewed his bottom lip: an obvious tell, but the boy had had a trying day.

“My grandmother taught me,” he said.

“ _What?_ ” Artemis exclaimed.

“She’s a most accomplished witch,” he said, “she’s helped many a knight defeat mighty beasts.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” He sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers. “Is your other personality able to do what you can— use magic without a wand?”

“Not as well as I can,” Orion said automatically.

Artemis let out a string of curses in multiple languages. He was gratified when Orion winced.

Dumbledore spread his hands out on the desk top. “I see.” He met Orion’s blue eyes, probing them. Artemis felt a humming around his temples. No matter how much he wanted control again, he did  _not_ like someone poking at his mind.

“ _Out!_ ” He said sternly, his hands fisting at his sides. The humming persisted. Outside, Dumbledore blinked and stood. “ _Out, out!_ ” Artemis demanded, pressing his fists to the temples of his mentally-constructed head. Did these infernal wizards only listen to Latin, then? “ _Caput Meum!_ ”

The headmaster stood in front of Orion, his hands clasped behind his back as he frowned down at him.

“ _It shouldn’t work that way—“_

Artemis heard the errant thought roll through the wizard’s brain before he retreated.

“There seems to be much the Americans can teach us,” he said, rubbing his forehead. 

“C-can I go now?” Orion asked, holding the wand behind his back for fear the headmaster would confiscate it again.

“Of course,” he replied. “But we will talk again, Mr. Fowl.”

Orion walked calmly to the door, then ran down the hall, Artemis yelling at him the whole way. “ _Why couldn’t you just tell him? We could go back home, be with Holly and Mother and Butler! But no, you and your plebeian mindset can’t have that. You fit in here, in this ridiculous world, and so you’re determined to ruin my life with your inane fantasies!_ ”

“‘Inane fantasies’ are all I have!” Orion shot back between gasps as he ran up the steps to the owlery. “I never get to spend time with Mother, didn’t get to play cowboys and aliens with  _our_ brothers.  _You_ do all that, and I get to watch if I’m lucky. I have all of your loves and dreams and joys, but I only ever get to feel the loss of them!” He doubled over against a pillar, grabbing his aching sides. “Now I’m in control. No electricity to shock me out, no Holly to help you. Besides, I’m doing great here. Only one day and I’ve made three friends—“

“ _—I made those friends, technically.”_ Artemis pointed out, crossing his arms. _“You got us into a fight.”_

 _“_ Which  _I_ won!” Orion jabbed his finger forward, as if Artemis stood in front of him and he could poke him in the chest. “I’m going to get this body in shape and improve our life for a change, and you can either fight me and lose, or sit back and let me help us.”

Artemis yelled at Orion for the rest of the day: as he reunited with his friends, as he attended classes, as he accepted accolades from his peers. He wondered after a while if Orion had learned how to shut him out. Nothing terrified Artemis more.

Though Artemis would love Orion to fail, he’d crafted quite a cozy life for himself in one short week. He’d used the popularity boost the duel afforded him to his advantage, and was beloved or at least tolerated by all of the houses. The only house who still regarded him with some disdain was Ravenclaw. Even Slytherin had abandoned their former golden boy for the new, black-haired model. Contrary to Artemis’s belief, Orion passed in most classes (except Astronomy and History of Magic), and kept an exercise regimen better than Artemis ever had.

All his success didn’t stop Artemis from hating him, however. In fact, seeing Orion live the life of a “normal” boy, the life his mother wished he wanted, infuriated him even more. He thought about Orion’s comments about never being able to experience the life he loved because he and Artemis were, after all, the same person. But Orion was not the equal share he believed himself to be. He was a construct, a coping mechanism and biproduct of a disease long cured. He was not complete without Artemis, but Artemis was complete without him.

So while Orion galavanted with his brace of friends and enjoyed his magical dream world, Artemis plotted. He paced the circumference of his mental prison, pushed at the walls.  _He_  had evicted Dumbledore, not Orion. He could feel it. And if he could still affect events and people outside of his own mind, perhaps there was hope of escape. 


	18. Day in the Life of Orion

 

> **[fish-tuna](https://fish-tuna.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
>  
> 
> To Artemis (or is it Orion now?): Have you tried any of the magical confectionery yet?

 

I have. Hogwarts has an odd preference for desserts in the shape of or taste of– odd things. I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but that requires my snacks to be, well, sweet.

I do like the Chocolate Frogs and some of the All Flavored Beans, but the risk almost isn’t worth the reward. My favorite is the Cauldron Cakes, and Mrs. Weasley’s oatmeal cookies.

 

> **[pokegeek151](https://pokegeek151.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
>  
> 
> Orion, what are the odds that you'll be resorted, particularly if you stay in control long enough? You're basically the quintessential Gryffindor.

 

Poke-enthusiast, you’re right that I don’t fit in in the dungeons anymore. But as the Sorting Hat and I aren’t really on speaking terms, I think I’m stuck down here for the time being. It’s also possible that Dumbledore is putting off a decision on re-sorting me until he’s sure I’m the dominant personality in this funny brain. I’m not sure on Hogwarts procedures for these things, though. I should ask Hermione.

Speaking of Hermione, she lent me these barrettes to keep my hair under control: I’m not sure of Artemis’s hair routine, but I’m not sure if it’s  _me_ , anyway. Is this suitable, spooky lady dog?


	19. All Hallow's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (DISCLAIMER: We’re going way off the canon path here, kiddos.)

 

Orion hadn’t heard from Artemis in weeks. He wanted to be thrilled, but he knew better than to trust himself. He wondered if he’d ever be fully at ease in his own head, or how long it would be before the little worm of guilt allowed him to call the head his own. He sat on a window ledge outside the Great Hall at early morning, waiting for his friends and thinking. He found it less and less pleasant to have time to himself lately: the longer he was alone and the longer he thought, the more he found gaps in his memory, gaps only his Other Half had access to. The day before he’d needed the colors of the rainbow for a spell and found he couldn’t remember them. His classmates had a jolly laugh at his expense when Snape made him memorize a song of colors, then sing it aloud for the class.

“Oi, Orion!” Ron called, pulling the Slytherin from the sill and out of his thoughts. “We thought we’d get here before you for a change.”

“Have you been sleeping well?” Harry asked, clapping a hand on Orion’s shoulder as they strode toward the monumental double doors.

Orion pursed his lips. “I’ve been sleeping, but not  _resting_ , you know?”

“Yeah, I can relate,” Harry said with a sad smile.

Orion had learned a lot about Harry in the last weeks, specifically the three Gryffindors’ annual exploits and the possible return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

 _He’s a regular King Arthur,_ Orion thought.  _A boy with a great destiny._ He wished he could tell his friends about his own adventures, but even he knew raving about other dimensions and fairies with time-stop technology and demons living on the moon would result in a one-way ticket to the loony bin.

The four children walked towards the closed doors of the Hall without breaking stride and the doors swung open on their hinges without being touched: though today, they did so with an unearthly groan. Orion jumped, and his friends grinned.

“I love Halloween,” Hermione said, stretching her arms over her head.

Black candles floated in clusters above the tables in the Great Hall, their wax surprisingly not dripping on the bright orange tablecloths below. The rafters were swathed in giant, real cobwebs, and a giant jack-o-lantern loomed in the middle of the ceiling, leering at the students as they entered.

Orion grinned back, his initial skittishness forgotten. He’d never had a real Halloween. Artemis wasn’t one for the season.

The children were feasting on caramel apples, spiced oatmeal, and pumpkin milk when the ghosts came into the hall, descending through the ceiling and phasing through walls.

“Do they not have ghosts at Ilvermorny School?” Hermione asked, noticing Orion’s open fascination.

“Erm, no,” he recovered. “Haven’t been around long enough, I suppose. Do they have to die in the school to be ghosts here?”

“I sure hope not!” Ron said through a mouth full of pumpkin muffin. Hermione glared at him, and he shrugged. “If so, where do the ghosts get their mounts for the Headless Hunt? Did the horses all die with their masters?”

“Or do they have to wait around for the horses to die?” Harry cut in.

“How many headless men couldn’t be in the hunt for lack of steed?” Ron asked, pointing at Harry with a fork.

Harry laughed. “Maybe it started off as a Headless Jog.”

“The two of you, really,” Hermione chastised. “A lot of them do,” she told Orion. “Or at least, they all have a strong connection to Hogwarts.”

“And  _unfinished business_ ,” Ron added, wiggling his fingers under his chin and baring his teeth.

“What’s the Headless Hunt?” Orion laughed.

“A gaggle of  _really_  old men on their high horses boasting about not having a good head on their shoulders.” Nearly Headless Nick sulked. He phased between Ron and Harry, and the chill he brought on prompted them to make room for him on the table bench. “Now me, I may not be  _completely_ headless, but at least I  _have a head!_ ” He said the last part loudly, so a group of men a good deal shorter than they should be, heads tucked under their arms, could hear.

“He’s talking about Lord Valeron,” Ron whispered behind his hand. “He lost his head, literally. His head was misplaced before his burial. But he’s still able to take part in the Hunt. No one knows how.”

“I know how! It’s prejudice!” Nick bewailed. “He can’t use his head for Nogglin’ Rolling, or Cranium Volleyball! They only like him because he’s mysterious.”

“He is pretty mysterious,” Hermione said, resting her chin on her fist as she watched the only truly headless man on the outskirts of the group, fixing cufflinks he couldn’t have known had come askew.

Orion felt a stirring in his mind, a cold, familiar itch that made his stomach turn.

“It’s rumored that his head knows such terrible secrets it’s been buried separate from his body somewhere on the Hogwarts estate,” Ron said in hushed tones, “and that he searches for it still.”

“Ahh! He’s bewitched you as well!” Nick wailed. He swung an arm to bang the table, but his arm fell right through. “But I’ll have the last laugh,” he told them, leaning in conspiratorially. “Because  _I_ know where Lord Valeron’s head lies.”

Ron and Hermione made faces of awe, though it was evident they didn’t believe him, while Harry shook his head. But someone did believe the beleaguered specter.

‘ _Ask him if he wants his head completely removed.’_

Orion started so violently that he dumped a goblet of pumpkin milk into his lap. He performed an anti-stain spell before Hermione could, but the wand shook in his hand and the spell transferred the stain to the tablecloth.

“Orion?” Hermione asked, her heavy brows furrowed.

He turned his attention to Nick on the other side of the table. “I can remove your head for you.”

“What?” Nick, Ron, and Harry said in unison.

“I can remove your head for you,” Orion said, the color returning to his cheeks, “and you can finally take part in the Headless Hunt. But in return, you tell me where Lord Valeron’s head is.”

The three Gryffindors and the ghost stared at the pale boy for a long moment.

The ghost finally spoke. “If you can get me into the Hunt,” he said slowly, “I will do whatever you want.”

“How in the seven layers of the underworldare we supposed to remove a dead man’s head?” Orion hissed, trying not to sound excited. He’d ducked into a dark gap between columns for privacy while he talked to himself.

‘ _Oh, you’re acknowledging me now?_ ’ Artemis said snidely.

“You haven’t talked to me for weeks!” Orion sputtered. “But never mind that, you must have a plan if you’ve promised the poor soul his deepest wish.”

‘ _The simplest solution would be to exhume the body and finish the job.’_ Artemis smiled at Orion’s squeamishness. ‘ _But as I’m doubting there’s any flesh left, that avenue is out. Thankfully, while you’ve been traipsing around wizard academy, I’ve been doing some theorizing with quantum and particle physics.’_

“Yeah?” Orion asked, pretending to understand.

He could almost see Artemis’s vampiric grin, quite fitting for the holiday. ‘ _Yeah.’_

That night, the four friends gathered under Harry’s Cloak of Invisibility and snuck into the Transfiguration classroom, chose because it was the only class with windows big enough to be lit by the full moon.

Orion had gathered supplies per Artemis’s instructions and hid them in the room before light’s out: a coil of copper wire, the interdimensional device that brought them there, the damaged tazer pen, some protection equipment, and a knife.

‘ _Or any sharp blade,’_ Artemis had specified.

Orion had never distrusted himself more.

“What do we do now?” Hermione whispered. “We told Nick to meet us at midnight, that’s two hours away.”

“We— I need the time to set this up,” he explained. “It’s very precise, but I’ll let you know if I need help.”

The three friends gathered around a table a few meters away to play some game they’d invented with the Chocolate Frog cards. Orion wished he were playing with them.

‘ _Focus,’_ Artemis reprimanded. ‘ _You have the steady hands for this job, but not the knowledge. Now listen to me very carefully—‘_

It was about fifteen minutes till midnight, and the Gryffindors had long since become bored of their game and infatuated with Orion’s mysterious assignment. He’d set up a small workstation at McGonagall’s desk. Odd sparks flew in every direction as he used his wand as a welding torch to rewire something in the tech-watch he’d snuck in from home.

“Electronics don’t work here,” Hermione reminded him, her face flickering in the blue light of the flame. “That’s why your watch broke in the first place.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not trying to fix it then,” Orion said through the bandana covering his mouth.

“What are you trying to do?” Ron asked.

“Supe it up,” he replied, using tweezers to lift a tiny coil on the circuit board and bend it where he wanted it. “If  _my_ theory is correct, ghosts are a mix between the magical and the physical: real, organic beings who left an imprint on the world. I’m not the first to wonder if those who died didn’t really pass on to a higher plane, but are in fact dimension-adjacent, and the sad creatures we call ghosts are caught between our world and the beyond.” He wound two lengths of wire to the sides of the circuit board, twisted those wires together, and snipped it with the knife half a meter from the watch. “However, the human brain essentially runs on electricity, a current,” he activated the tazer pen, which he’d reworked to create a steadier charge. “It’s no coincidence that electronics go haywire when specters draw near. They’re an ectoplasmic container for the neurons that contain the brain, the spirit! So hence, my little experiment.”

He twisted the wire around the fountain pen’s split tip, then switched it on. The watch’s display screen flickered, then lit up and beeped a digital greeting.

“Voila,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.

“You just fixed a watch,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

“You sounded just like Arthur,” Hermione added, her eyes wide and admiring.

“I’ve done more than fix it,” Orion said, coughing once into his fist. He took up the knife, a switchblade he’d knicked from one of the other Slytherin boys. He wrapped the watch’s band around the knife and tapped a few buttons on its interface.

“Are you ready for me?” Nearly Headless Nick phased through a window, the moonlight refracting through his hair and ruffled collar.

“Are you ready to be headless?” Ron asked as the ghost descended to their level.

“I’ve been ready for one hundred seventeen years,” Nick said. He rubbed his hands together. “So what do I do?”

“Come closer,” Orion pressed a final button on the watch and leaned over it, his palms planted on the desktop. “And trust me.”

A red web emanated from the watch, causing the three other humans to jump back. The laser lattice scanned Nick, then whirred as the frankensteined contraption hummed and vibrated so hard the knife rattled on the table.

“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Hermione whispered, eyeing the door warily. The machine was making quite a racket now.

“Someone’s going to hear!” Agreed Harry.

As he said this, the Hogwarts clocktower began to ring, the bells’ resonance drowning out the droning of the machine.

“Look!” Hermione said, pointing at the experiment. The base of the hilt glowed blue. The blue virus spread up the knife, and when it encased the tip of the blade, Orion turned off the tazer and cut the power to the watch. 

“Wizard,” Ron said.

Orion touched the hilt with a finger experimentally, and when it didn’t hurt him, he slipped it from the watch band and held it aloft. It was still opaque, but had the eery aura of the haunting dead.

“An entrancing display,” Nick said, “but how’s that—“

With a quick, practiced strike, Orion slid the knife through the preexisting cut bisecting his throat, exerting a bit more pressure when he felt the resistance of skin.

All four students and the ghost watched in awe as his head tipped comically to one side, then fell to the floor.


	20. Meanwhile 3

**[pokegeek151](https://pokegeek151.tumblr.com/)**  asked:

For the gang: How would you react if, hypothetically, Orion had surfaced and was delaying Artemis' progress on returning home by, well, being himself?

 

 

**Foaly:** Of course he got out. Why wouldn’t he? Artemis is the walking, talking epitome of Murphy’s Law. But this explains why it’s taken so long to get a signal from him: Orion is an idiot.

**Holly:** Thanks for telling us, now I know to pack my buzz baton. How would I react? I can’t  _react_  much until we get there. Mostly I’m angry at Orion and worried for Artemis. I thought in his clone body Orion had as good as never existed. What’s going on over there.

**Foaly:** We’re about to find out. I think I just got a signal!


	21. Orion and the Two Heads

They all stared at the head staring up at the ceiling, unblinking. For a horrible minute, Orion was afraid he’d actually managed to kill a dead man. Then, the head began to laugh.

“Yes! Yes! This is what I’m talking about! Come over here, me, and pick me up!”

His body lurched forward, accidentally kicking the head to the other side of the room.

“Oof! Got to get used to this!”

The children waited patiently for Nick’s body to retrieve his head, Orion getting over the shock first, then Harry, then Hermione, and finally Ron.

“Now, I believe you promised us the location of another head,” Orion prompted.

Nick looked up at his severed neck, which “looked” down at him.

“I will tell you,” he said, gritting his teeth, “a deal is a deal, after all. But I wouldn’t have made it if I thought you’d actually be able to do it.”

Harry crossed his arms, bending at the waist to meet Nick’s eyes. “Where’s the head, Sir Nicholas?”

“We’re not going!” Ron whispered over breakfast the next morning.

“Nick said the head can only be found under the light of a full moon,” Hermione said, “so we need to make the decision soon. After tonight, it will begin waning.”

“Going that far into the Forbidden Forest?” Harry pushed aside a half-eaten pumpkin muffin. “Are we sure it’s worth it?”

“Besides,” Ron said, “no one knows why the head has been hidden. All history of the Valeron family has been lost. He could be a seriously wicked dude.”

“Or he could be an innocent. His body seems nice and well mannered enough,” Hermione countered. “Bottom line is, we won’t know anything for certain until we find him.”

The three looked over at Orion, who had been silent for most of the morning. The sudden intelligence he’d exhibited the night before had worn off, leaving a cowed boy in its wake. To be honest, Orion was trying hard not to think. He wasn’t sure what Artemis had access to anymore, and he couldn’t risk him finding out about  _the plan_.

“I think,” he said, fiddling with his fork, “I’m not sure how much longer I have in control of this body. I can feel Art- _Arthur_  chipping away at the walls holding him back, and I—“ he closed his eyes “— I want to live life to the fullest while I have one, you know?”

The Gryffindors were silent, the chatter of the other children pushing in on them.

“We’re here for you, Orion,” Ron said, squeezing his shoulder. “You wanna go out with a bang? You’ve come to the right people: mischief and adventure seems to follow us around.” He extended a fist toward his Slytherin friend.

A smile tugged at the corners of Orion’s mouth, and he bumped his fist against Ron’s. “To glory,” he said.

That night, the four friends rendezvoused at the pumpkin patch behind Hagrid’s hut. The three Gryffindors had the benefit of the Cloak, but the Slytherin house had a chess tournament that night, so Orion had to sneak out at a later time and meet them separately.

“Do we have everything?” Hermione whispered, ducking out from under the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry looked in his knapsack. “Map, candles, trowels,  _Seances for Dummies_ , cooking sherry—“

“—and a head-sized trash bag.” Ron finished.

Orion swooped down on a broom, dismounting two meters from the ground and flipping the broom handle over his shoulder with a grace Artemis could only envy.

“Are we ready?” he asked, propping the broom amongst Hagrid’s other gardening tools.

“As we’ll ever be,” Ron said, shaking from his shoulders to his feet to limber himself up.

“Right, straight to it, then,” Harry said, taking out the map and handing it to Hermione.

The four entered the dark woods as they always did: with fear and a heaping helping of ignorance.

After hearing a wolf howl in the distance, the students decide to sacrifice speed for safety and cluster under the Cloak. They arrived at the Whomping Willow without incident, when the moon was high in the sky.

“Hurry and find the marker,” Hermione whispered, holding the map up to the moonlight. “And stay clear of the Willow, whatever you do.”

The young wizards searched the area, lighting their way with their wands. A few minutes later:

“I think I found it!” Harry cried. His friends joined him at a shallow hill that had been bisected at some point, exposing its rocky innards. Near the ground and concealed by shrubbery the crest of the house of Valeron glowed in the light of the full moon: two winged snakes twined around a book with holes in it.

“There’s some heavy symbolism there,” Hermione said, crouching down. “Shall we begin?”

An hour and a meter of dirt later, Orion’s trowel struck metal. The friends looked at each other, then abandoned their shovels in unison, excavating the box with their hands. Soon, they hefted a metal box to the surface. A thick chain encircled it and a padlock held it shut.

“I’m getting bad vibes,” Ron said, standing and backing away. “No one puts a big, bloody chain on a box with only a head in it without good reason.”

“Perhaps it was one of Lord Valeron’s enemies, to punish him in the after life.” Orion pointed out. “In any case, I won’t have come all this way for nothing.”

He brandished his wand. “ _Alohomora,”_  he said.

Nothing.

“It makes sense that a chest this protected couldn’t be unlocked by a simple charm,” Hermione mused.

“We could try the old fashioned way,” Harry suggested. “Smash it off with a rock.”

“Maybe we don’t need to open it,” Hermione said. She tugged on Harry’s backpack. “We want to talk to a ghost, remember? Ghosts can phase through things. All we have to do is wake him up.”

Hermione retrieved the candles, sherry, and seance book. They arranged five candles in a circle around the box and lit them with magic.

“ _Animum sapientis_ ,” she intoned, pouring the sherry over the box. “ _Accipit, expergiscimini, surrecturus_!”

Only the chirping of crickets and the whistling of the wind could be heard on the small hillock.

“Did you hear that?” Orion asked.

When the others only gave him blank stares, he crouched before the box, tilting his head toward it. “I hear something inside,” he said, and the others fell to their knees, too.

“Dementor?” he repeated, then shook his head. “No,  _dimittere. Dimittere mortuis_.” The candles all extinguished at once, and the padlock unhinged with a clink.

For a long moment, none of the children moved, but all stared at the box. Orion reached forward, removed the lock, and swept the chains off the chest.

He reeled back when the lid flew open of its own accord. A skull rolled forward in the tiny casket, its blazing green eyes flicking from person to person.

“My greatest gratitude to you youths!” it haled in a high-pitched trill. “I’d almost despaired of anyone setting me free.”

“Much obliged,” Hermione said with a small curtsy.

“But we’re here with a purpose,” Orion said. “We were told you knew— secrets.”

“Everyone knows secrets, my boy,” The skull of Lord Valeron pointed out. “Are the secrets I know worth sharing? That’s the question.”

“I’m guessing your secrets have something to do with the afterlife and immortality,” Harry posited, his arms crossed over his chest, “or we wouldn’t even be able to have this conversation face to face.”

“Or face to.. bone?” Ron corrected.

“Clever children,” the head replied. “But I like to keep my secrets. However, as a show of gratitude, here’s what I’ll do. You can ask me three questions, and if I like them, I’ll answer them.”

“How about, you answer our questions or we lock you back in the box?” Ron threatened.

The head leered at him, but then, the skinless face always appeared to be leering. “I think you’ll find locking this chest will be infinitely more difficult than unlocking it.”

“Fine,” Orion interjected. “We take you offer.”

“Alright,” the head fixed its fiery gaze on Orion. “First question.”

“How is your ghost split into two pieces without the other half not being able to find you?”

Lord Valeron sighed. “The obvious question, but I’ll humor you. Secret number one: I didn’t die from decapitation.”

The wizards exchanged surprised glances.

“I made known that once I passed on, I wished for my head to be removed, put in this box, and sent to my ancestral home in Scotland. The chains and ridiculous hiding spot were not my idea. But  _how_ did I do it?” The green eyes squinted up. “It was simple, really, but also wholly dependent on my personality. Or rather, personalities.” The head rolled its eyes, and Orion imagined he’d be shrugging if he had shoulders. “I had a split personality, one I didn’t quite get on with. So the one part of my consciousness got my body after death, and I inherited the head. Seems like I got the short end of the deal, literally, but I don’t mind. I do love to talk.”

A vibrating sensation buzzed behind Orion’s left eye and an odd excitement zinged through his limbs. Orion swallowed hard. This wasn’t good: Artemis had had an epiphany.

Hermione frowned. “Why did—“

“Would it be possible to separate a ghost from a body, before the person were dead?”

Hermione looked at him with confusion and dawning horror.

Orion, on the other hand, was confused by the words tumbling out of his mouth in Artemis’s voice. As soon as they had been spoken, the vibration stopped.

Lord Valeron blinked. “You catch on swiftly: a wizard after my own heart. I did do some experiments in that vein during my life. The nearest I got to succeeding cost me my own life. Let’s see if you can ascertain: what creature do we know who specializes in the extraction of souls?”

Harry’s green eyes widened. “Dementors,” he whispered.

Lord Valeron winked at him. “Right you are. I allowed a dementor to suck out my soul with the intention of cutting it off midstream and releasing my ghost, or half of it, at least. But I underestimated the its power, my plan backfired, and, well—“

Ron frowned. “That makes no sense. Dementors don’t kill, they feed on the soul. If it backfired, shouldn’t you have turned into a soulless husk with no ghost to haunt Hogwarts?”

“And why did someone chain you up and hide you in the woods?” Hermione asked.

The head cackled. “An excellent question. One I’d be delighted to answer.”

The skull floated above the casket on a cloud of green, which swirled and solidified into a skeletal shape.

“Why did they hide me away? Because I was my  _last_  experiment. And along the way, I figured out how to destroy the soul from the inside.” He flexed his new body, and a shimmering robe materialized over it, held closed by a belt in the shape of a snake. “A happy side effect, when one’s goal is to take over Hogwarts. And now I can fulfill that dream from beyond the grave,” Lord Valeron stepped out of the box and past the circle of candles. “Thanks to you.”


	22. Meanwhile 4

**[midnightstarhunter](https://midnightstarhunter.tumblr.com/)**  asked:

Artemis will probably INVENT a way to mentally murder someone just so he can get back at Orion for this whole mess -.-'

 


	23. The Return?

The students all raised their wands, ready for a fight, but the ghost of Lord Valeron wouldn’t trifle with them. With a sweep of his arms, he sent out a blast of green smoke, the shock wave of which threw the students back as the ghost catapulted himself into the air and over the forest toward Hogwarts.

The Gryffindors had all landed on grass or in bushes, but Orion had been thrown against a tree and knocked unconscious. Hermione and Ron rushed to his aid, but were warded off by angry swats from the Whomping Willow tree Orion lay under.

While Hermione tried different spells to calm the willow, Ron watched the branches like a child playing chicken in traffic, taking a step forward, then back when a limb swung too close. A twig wound around his ankle, and thought Harry held him around the waist to anchor him, the willow only flipped them both into a bush.

“What’s all this racket?”

The voice came from the direction of the Willow, and for a moment the children thought the tree was speaking. It had been that kind of night.

Professor Lupin’s head appeared from an alcove, when he saw the terrified children, he pressed a small knot at the base of the tree. It stilled immediately.

Hermione and the recovering boys ran to Orion’s side.

“Is he breathing?” Hermione asked, wringing her wand in her hands.

“Yeah,” Harry said, lips pursed.

“C’mon mate, up’n at em,” Ron prodded, shaking one of Orion’s shoulders.

Orion groaned, and the Gryffindors sighed in relief.

“So,” Professor Lupin said from behind them. The children tensed. “What about  _Forbidden Forest_ don’t you kids understand? And past curfew?”

“We were finding Lord Valeron’s head.”

“Lord Valeron’s—?” Lupin scoffed, shaking his shaggy head. “Of course you were. Wait. Were?”

“We found it, professor,” Harry said, apologetic but firm. “And it turns out he was hidden for good reason. He’s insane, sir, and he’s on his way to Hogwarts now to do who knows what.”

“Take it over, is what he said,” Hermione added.

Lupin looked up at the moon, thinking. “Right. Potter, you’re with me. We’re going to head back to Hogwarts and stop this insanity. Ron, Hermione, it’s going to take both of you to help Mr. Fowl out of here. We’ll send Hagrid to aid you, as well.”

Thus assigned, Harry and the professor ran into the shadows of the woods, while the other two turned their attention back to their friend. His head was lolling slowly back and forth, and when he opened his eyes, they were blank, rolling up slightly.

“Orion?” Hermione said, tears evident in her voice.

His head turned toward the sound. “Not— at the moment.”

“Arthur!” She grabbed his hand. “Welcome back!”

“And not quite,” Artemis said, accepting their help in sitting up. “Orion is asleep at the moment. I’ve been training myself these past weeks to take control when he’s unconscious. However, I still don’t have access to many of my faculties, including eyesight.”

Ron waved a hand in front of Artemis’s face.

Artemis raised an eyebrow, turning to the redhead. “However, I’m not an idiot.”

Ron put his hand down.

“We need to get to Hogwarts,” Artemis said, hefting himself to his feet with a groan. Both of his friends grabbed one of his arms. “I have an idea of how to stop Valeron, but I will need a pair of eyes or two, and we only have until Orion wakes up to accomplish it.”

“Will it involve the contraption that took off Nicholas’s head?” Hermione asked, guiding him down the steep slope into the forest proper.

He grinned.

Hagrid met them halfway through the forest and carried them all back, running through the trees and avoiding mischievous roots like a gazelle. The jostling didn’t do much to aid Artemis’s headache.

They arrived to a Hogwarts in chaos. Most of the school population were on the green, looking up at the school, which was smoking from a couple windows. Evacuation was still ongoing, with teachers escorting coughing and crying children to the throng.

“Wa’s happened?” Hagrid asked, devastated. “Death Ea’ers?”

“Not so bad as that,” Ron reassured him.

“We need a way inside without being seen,” Artemis said.

“Harry took the Invisibility Cloak with him,” Hermione said.

“He probably needed it.” Artemis snapped his fingers. “Orion’s broom. Behind the hut.”

“Will that carry all three of us?” Ron asked, returning with the broom.

“Arthur and I will go,” Hermione said. “It’ll be easier for one person to sneak in from the ground, don’t you think?”

Ron folded his arms, holding the broom out of her reach. “Then  _you_ sneak in.”

“Arthur needs someone with intelligence to help him with the device,” she said.

“I’ve grown up around Muggle stuff,” Ron retorted, “I know more about it than you.”

“You knobhead, I’m a  _Muggleborn_ —!”

“Enough,” Artemis said. “We don’t have time. Ron you’re the more resourceful one, you sneak in and rendezvous with us in the Potions classroom.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but handed Hermione the broom. Both the students mounted: it shuddered, but still held them aloft. Keeping them along the border of the forest just below the canopy, Hermione circumvented the gawkers on the lawn and landed the broom on a third floor balcony. Concussive blasts and maniacal laughter echoed through the empty corridors, confusing them as to where it came from. Not that it mattered; they needed to get to the Slytherin basement to retrieve Artemis’s supplies before they met Ron. She maneuvered them through the moving staircases, and shushed the paintings when they cried out at seeing children still in the building. When they ran across a balcony looking down on the lobby, Professor Lupin, Professor Snape, and Harry were all unconscious in different corners. Dumbledore threw spells at the ghost, but each was deflected or phased through him.

“This is what passes as a ‘master wizard’ now?” Valeron sighed, flicking a hand and pinning the headmaster to the wall. Hermione yelped, and Artemis shushed her, but it was too late.

“What a pleasant surprise!” the ghost trilled. “Visitors!”

The two children were lifted bodily and floated over the railing to the stone floor in front of the ghost. Hermione had her wand in hand before they landed, but it was just as promptly yanked out of it by Valeron’s magic.

“Ah, more of the children who aided in my escape!” He gave Dumbledore a sideways glance. “You did well with these ones, old bean.”

“I’m so sorry, Headmaster,” Hermione called. “We didn’t know!”

“Of course you didn’t, if you did you’d be a lot more interesting.” Valeron cackled, throwing the two into a suit of armor. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. You’ll have the honor of being part of my soulless hoard.”

Artemis convulsed next to her, and Hermione reached out a hand before he pushed himself to his feet, his stance broad and chest puffed out.

“Fiendish villain,” Orion said, holding the armor’s broadsword aloft. “Have at thee.”

Lord Valeron laughed. “All right, this has gone on long enough.” He lifted his arms, and dementors gathered around him, not attacking him but forming a circle around his green form. Waiting for… what? Instructions?

Orion backed up, his valiant blood running cold. He’d gladly take on all of these foes in battle, but he had the feeling steel wouldn’t be effective against them.

‘ _Of course not, imbecile,’_ Artemis agreed. ‘ _Collect Hermione and get downstairs. Finish the plan.’_

“Harry and the others could be dementor fodder by then,” Orion objected.

Floating above them, Valeron pointed at Dumbledore and the other fallen heroes. The dementors glided down toward them, lazily, confidently. Hermione leapt to her feet.

“We can’t fight them,” she said, bouncing with indecision. “And I’m not sure where he threw my wand.”

“ _Accio wand,_ ” Orion said, returning her wand to her when it flew to his hand.

“OK,” she said. The wraiths were only a meter away now, and one turned its blank gaze on them. “What now?”

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_  Lupin cast the spell from where he lay on the floor, driving the dementors back and momentarily blinding Valeron. Dumbledore dropped to the floor and immediately took up the spell, keeping them at bay.

‘ _Go now,’_ Artemis insisted.

“Why?” Orion asked flipping the sword to his other hand and brandishing his wand. “We’re winning now.” Just then, a long arm of green smoke slammed him against the wall and held him there. He hacked at it with the sword, but to no avail. Orion gasped as the air was pressed from his lungs.

Suddenly, a spot on the wall opposite Lord Valeron glowed blue. The spot grew in size and intensity until it was two meters high and a meter wide, and a figure stepped out of it. A wholly headless figure. Lord Valeron made a gagging sound, dropping Orion as the body of Lord Valeron stood in the ruined lobby. As his body raised a sword, another, deeper voice spoke through Valeron’s mouth,

“Enough, Valeron.”

“Who said that?” Orion asked.

Lord Valeron’s body charged forward. The head only had a moment to materialize a sword with which to block the swing.

Hermione blinked rapidly. “I think.. I think his body did.”


	24. Holly to the Rescue

Aha, that’s sweet of you to say, [@fowl-n-shit](https://tmblr.co/mzRbfuYJ-Q1OCaxBfcJkeCw). My two wishes, as always, are to go on great adventures and be with Holly. Just around her is enough.

~~Though it’d also be nice to not be attacked by dementors at the moment.~~

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	25. Finally

For once, Hermione didn’t know what to think. A ghost head that invaded Hogwarts was now dueling his decapitated body, dementors were attacking her teachers, and a redheaded girl Orion seemed to know had fallen out of nothing, electrocuted him, and was calling Arthur “Artemis.”

“That’s all the tech support you’re getting out of me,” Holly said, hitting her gun against her leg. “All of my electrical devices are on the fritz. And are you shorter?”

“Yes, but there’s no time to explain a lot of things.” He gave Holly an odd look, somewhere between afraid and amused and ‘oh’. “Speaking of tech, we have a rendezvous to keep.”

Artemis, Holly, and Hermione picked their way down to the basement, stopping several times to hide from roaming dementors.

“My name’s Hermione,” the brunette said, holding out her hand to the girl trailing behind them. The newcomer had a strange tick of pivoting on the spot every so often. Hermione was sure she’s seen the same thing on cop shows on the telly.

The girl took her hand and smiled, but it didn’t reach her mismatched eyes. “Holly Short,” she replied. Holly noticed her hand and stared at it, as if this were her first time seeing it. She jogged ahead, ramming into Artemis’s shoulder.

“Artemis!” she hissed. “Am I—“ she kneaded her newly rounded ears. “D’Arvit, I’m human.”

“And I’m younger, and Orion’s back in my head, even though I remember being a clone,” he said, leading them around a corner. “It raises a lot of interesting questions about crossing dimensions.”

“Am I still going to be human when we go back?”

Artemis pursed his lips. “Another interesting question.”

“I’m going to— severely hurt you,” she seethed.

“Do you still have magic?” he asked.

Holly concentrated, and blue sparks danced in her palm. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

They all ducked under a table and waited for a dementor to pass. When it turned a corner, they continued.

“What was that? In her hand?” Hermione gaped. “Some illusion?”

“Right,” he looked at Holly, who was at eye level to him now. It was pleasantly unnerving. “They need wands to use magic here.”

“So anyone can use magic here?” Holly asked, looking both ways down the corridor before following him down mossy stairs to the basement.

“Not everyone. But those born with magic have to channel it through wands.”

“Huh. Weird.”

Hermione frowned. She didn’t like when Ron and Harry treated her like a third wheel, and she didn’t like it now. “Where are you two  _from_?”

They stopped in front of a giant sculpture of a snake with emerald eyes.

“I’ll explain later,” Artemis said, and she couldn’t decide if he were lying or not before he spoke the Slytherin password and the serpent uncurled to reveal an ornate door.

Overcome with curiosity about what another house’s dorms looked like, Hermione forgot her annoyance and followed him inside.

By the time the three made it to the Potions room, Ron was waiting for them.

“What took you?” he asked, his grin toothy.

Hermione looked down her nose at him. “A magic battle.”

“Wait, really?” he stood from where he leaned against Snape’s desk. “What happ—“ his eyes fell on Holly, who raised an eyebrow at his shocked expression.

Ron smiled, then frowned, then sputtered, “Who’s this? Not that I’m not excited you’re here,” he reassured her, “but I thought I knew every pretty girl in Hogwarts.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Shut it, Ron. Besides, she’s a ginger, you’re probably related.”

As the two friends continued to bicker, Artemis beelined for an empty tabletop and began arranging his supplies.

“You have a way to get us back home?’ Holly asked.

“No, I have other responsibilities,” he said, pulling out the interdimensional device, tazer, wire, and duct tape.

Holly sighed, propping up her arm on his shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind the height change so much. “Don’t tell me the mess upstairs is your fault.”

“Technically, it’s Orion’s fault.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he’s capable of causing that much trouble.”

Artemis had rigged up the watch like before, and was securing the wire to the watch band with duct tape. “You know me too well. But if it helps your opinion of me, I would have stayed to help them regardless.”

She punched him fondly on the arm, then turned so her backside leaned against the desk, facing the opposite direction Artemis did while staying at his side. “So what’s the deal here?” she asked.

“This is a school for magic-wielding students. I’ll fill you in on all the gossip later, but to summarize; I agreed to take a dead man’s head off to get directions to another dead man’s head. Don’t worry, no one was hurt,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. “No one till tonight, anyway. But I instigated the venture partially because it got Orion to reactivate this,” he lifted the contraption, which he’d now attached to a belt, “which gave Foaly the signature he needed to pinpoint my location.” He checked the specs of the tazer.

“Alright, I believe we are ready,” he called to Hermione and Ron, who’d stopped fighting and were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Who  _are_ you people?” Ron asked.

Artemis wrapped the machine around his arm and Holly called a ball of magic into her hand.

“We’re inter-dimensional travelers,” Artemis said, “here to save your world with science.”

“OK,” Hermione said. “But what does that mean?”

“Follow me,” Artemis replied, jogging up the small amphitheater to the door. He had to give it to Orion, the exercise was working out for them. He didn’t feel even a little winded when he reached the top.

“Wait a bloody minute,” Ron said. He glared up at him. “You haven’t explained anything. Who are you, and what happened to Orion?”

Artemis considered telling the wizard there was no time to explain, but when he saw the look of hurt anger on the boy’s face, he didn’t. Ron loved his friend Orion. They’d bonded, and he’d been replaced by another mind and didn’t know if he’d ever see him again.

“Orion is still in here,” he said, tapping his skull. “He’s distant and silent, as I’m the dominant personality, but he’s still there. Along with all his memories and feelings for you all. I won’t do him the disservice of saying he isn’t a real person. He is. And I’d appreciate your aid in helping him at another time, but now we have to go upstairs and stop a marauding, murderous spirit.”

Ron gave him a long look. Hermione put her hand on his arm, and he sighed.

“Fine.” He took his wand out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

In the lobby, events had gotten worse. More dementors had infiltrated the room, and the wizards’ shields had fallen due to exhaustion. Lord Valeron’s body was their only defense, and he was still dueling his other half, using his body to keep the specters at bay.

“By the gods,” Holly breathed. “What  _are_ those things?”

“Hermione,” Artemis said after surveilling the situation. “Do you remember that spell Lupin and Dumbledore were using?”

“ _Expecto Patronum?”_  She clarified. “But I’ve researched that spell. It’s very advanced.”

“You’re an expert at defying expectations,” he said. “Please try.”

She blushed and nodded.

He turned to Holly. “Holly, I want you to go with Hermione and try the same. I think your magic will work without a wand. If not—“

“I can improvise,” she said with a wink.

Artemis smirked, then turned to Ron. “You’re with me. They’ll need a diversion.”


	26. Meanwhile 5

> **[brb-riding-dragons](https://brb-riding-dragons.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> To Holly: we've been getting updates on Artemis's mess, but how is my favourite character and her team doing? (Mod: you are very good at writing and your art is amazing and I love it)

 

As you know, Holly has been sent into the other dimension, and once again we can’t do anything until she gives us a signal.

Which sucks, because I’m getting demands for updates from Butler and Angeline, and I’m not sure which one’s scarier. I actually haven’t heard from Butler in a while, but I think that’s because he’s building a prison to keep Artemis in when he gets back.

**No 1:** I can’t sense them, either. Wherever they are, there’s a lot of magical interference (isn’t that a nice word?).


	27. Artemis and the Split Man

“Give it to me!” Ron struggled with Artemis, trying to pry the inter-dimensional watch from his wrist.

“You don’t know how to use it, and we only have one shot!” Artemis countered, stomping on the boy’s instep and twisting out of his grasp.

Ron yelped, hopping on one foot. “Oh, just like a Slytherin,” he spat. “To fight dirty. How can you be sure that thing will kill a ghost anyway?”

Artemis grinned, one hand outstretched to keep the other boy at bay, the other holding the contraption behind his back. “Because we’ve tested it once before. You know, you were there.”

Both halves of Lord Valeron paused, listening to the argument with interest. Thus distracted, Holly and Hermione snuck behind enemy lines.

“What was that, er,  _spell_ again?” Holly asked.

“Like this,” Hermione said, leveling her wand at the dementors. “ _Expecto Patronum!”_ A bright light flashed from the tip, then spluttered out.

“With— conviction,” Lupin rasped from the floor.

Hermione and Holly looked at each other and nodded once. They rolled their shoulders, furrowed their brows, and raised their arms, one holding a wand, the other only pointing her finger.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_  they demanded. Twins flashes blinded almost everyone in the room, and a projection of an otter danced around Hermione, while a dolphin soared about Holly. The strength of their combined spells banished the dementors completely, their unearthly moans fading as they retreated.

Both girls collapsed.

“Are all spells that intense?” Holly gasped.

Hermione shook her head. “I’ve never felt anything like it. We probably put too much of ourselves into it, but at least the dementors have gone.”

Holly nodded. “Now for— Artemis!”

Artemis had been blinded and fell over in the confusion caused by the patronus. The head of Lord Valeron, who had been looking in the other direction at the time of the flash, still had his eyesight and took advantage of the wizards’ discombobulation by grabbing him by the neck and holding him aloft.

The room was silent for the first time in hours, waiting with bated breath to see the boy’s fate.

“Give me that device and show me how to use it,” he hissed, “Or I will kill you the old fashioned way.”

Artemis could only managed a shuddering nod, his face red from strain and lack of oxygen. The ghost lowered him to the ground, though he kept a hand on his throat.

“Any funny business,” he warned, “and I snap your spinal column.”

“I’m not known for my humor,” Artemis said dryly. “It goes like this—“ he reached forward to wrap the elongated strap around the ghost’s waist.

“No, don’t!” Ron protested, and Lord Valeron catapulted the redhead into a table.

“Go on,” he said.

Artemis attached the belt and activated the tazer. “Now I only have to push a few buttons…” the machine began vibrating violently.

“What’s happening?” Valeron demanded.

“Just a moment,” Artemis pushed against the hand on his neck, squinting at the display. “Ah, here we go.”

A blue light rapidly spread over Lord Valeron’s form, encasing him from head to toe.

“What’s it doing?”

“What it’s supposed to do,” he grinned. “Kill a ghost.”

Artemis glanced out of the corner of his eye at Lord Valeron’s body when the head roared in fury. “I’ll kill you for this!”

As the bony fingers began to squeeze, the body bounded forward, swinging his sword and severing Valeron’s arm with a single blow.

Artemis dropped to the ground, wheezing. Valeron clawed at the machine with his remaining hand, but it was too late. The inter-dimensional device winked out of existence, taking the ghost with it. All that remained was what the device didn’t recognize as ectoplasmic, the skull. It began to fall, reclaimed by gravity as it was released from the spirit possessing it, but Lord Valeron’s body caught it in the palm of a hand before it hit the ground.

Holly ran to Artemis. She clasped his head between her two hands, looking into his blue eyes with her mismatched ones. Then, reassured he was healthy, she slapped him on the back of the head.

“You idiot, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking two steps ahead, as always,” he said, rubbing through his hair. “And take care how you hit me, Orion could resurface at the slightest provocation.”

Holly crossed her arms. “Explain.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione suggested, helping Headmaster Dumbledore to his feet, “the explanation can wait until we can all hear it?”

“Quite right,” Dumbledore seconded. “I am most interested. However, the priority now is getting everyone resettled into Hogwarts.” He swung his wand in a complicated pattern, and the glass littering the floor reformed into window panes which slotted themselves back into frames, and the damaged furniture wove themselves together.

“Ron, if you’d please call everyone back inside,” Dumbledore said.

An hour later, the students were all gossiping away in their house dorms, and Holly, Artemis, Professor Lupin, and the three Gryffindors were all seated in Dumbledore’s office.

“Now please,” Dumbledore said, his fingers laced together on his desktop. “Explain.”

“It’s simple, really,” Artemis said with a shrug. “The inter-dimensional device was already calibrated for ectoplasmic entities thanks to Nicholas. It would be simple for even a damaged teleport to banish an non-corporeal being into another dimension, as they are half-gone already.” He crossed his legs, folding his hands over the top knee. “However, I knew Valeron would be impossible to get close to, so I needed him to want what I had. And what did Valeron want more than anything, more than even domination of Hogwarts?”

“To kill his other personality,” Hermione realized.

Artemis snapped. “Exactly. After he took the bait, hooking him was child’s play.”

“Very impressive,” Dumbledore allowed, and Lupin nodded in agreement. “But that doesn’t explain what this ‘inter-dimensional device’ is, and how you came in possession of it.”

“I thought that would be obvious,” Artemis countered. “I’m from another dimension, and I invented it.”

“I thought it was only supposed to teleport you,” Holly sneered. “And you definitely landed here on accident.”

“So you are not Arthur Fowl from Kansas,” the headmaster said nonchalantly.

“Artemis Fowl the Second,” Artemis confirmed. With more of a brogue than necessary, he said, “Irishman.”

Dumbledore nodded and looked at Holly. “And you are?”

“Holly Short, sir,” she said. “Special ops.” She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s all I can say.”

The old wizard turned his attention to the other students. “How much did you three know about this?”

“Only as much as you did, headmaster,” Hermione said, and the boys nodded.

“We saw his inter-what’s it the night he took Nick’s head off,” Ron said, and Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised, “but he said it was a normal watch he’d tinkered with.”

“To say this is unprecedented would be an understatement,” Dumbledore said after a long moment of silent thought.  “Thankfully, most of your exploits were kept out of the public eye, so I don’t have to explain much to the other professors, or the Council when they get here.” He smiled warmly at the assembled party. “Broken rules aside, I’m proud of you all for what you did tonight. Perhaps the dementors’ misbehavior will even be enough for me to get them removed from Hogwarts grounds. Here’s hoping.”

He stood, and all the others followed suite.

“It’s late,” he said. He nodded at Holly. “Miss Short, Professor Lupin will escort you to Hogsmeade for the night.”

“But I’m here for him,” Holly pointed at Artemis with a thumb. “We really need to be heading back to our dimension.”

Artemis put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “What if Orion comes back, freaks out, and runs you off to who knows where?”

“We’ll have him under close watch, if that helps,” Lupin offered.

“No, it doesn’t,” she snapped, and the two adults stood at attention. For a child not yet fifteen, she spoke with the authority of a wizened officer. “You had him under supervision for weeks, and he was still able to build contraband equipment and decapitate someone with you none the wiser.”

“What would you suggest, then?” Dumbledore asked, ever nonplussed.


	28. Artemis and the Final Experiment (Fin)

Artemis and Holly signed into their joint rooms in the  _The Three Broomsticks_ , all of Artemis’s ill-gotten belongings in tow. He inhaled the musty scent of perpetually wet wood and frying chips from the pub downstairs. He gratefully shed his Hogwarts-issue cardigan for his too-big, but still stylish, Armani jacket and stepped onto the balcony.

“You can’t stand the smell in there, either?” Holly asked, on her own adjacent balcony. She hitched a leg up to climb over to his side, then reconsidered.

“These humans limbs, so damn heavy,” she complained. “Your door locked?”

“No,” he said.

“You’re useless without Butler,” she growled.

He looked over the misty rooftops, the ever-present British cloud cover masking the stars and leeching the town of its color. His mouth quirked up as he heard Holly struggle with the sticky doorknob to his room. She stalked up behind him.

“We could have talked over our respective railings,” he said.

“Then you’d be out of striking distance,” she complained.

He tensed visibly, and she laughed, and he relaxed again.

“Is it all bad?” he asked. “Being human?”

She squinted up at the sky. “Well, my senses are dulled, so the air smells a lot cleaner.”

“I think that’s this world,” he said, sniffing dramatically. “Not as much pollution. Perhaps they use magic to clean the atmosphere.”

“You should ask Dumbledore tomorrow,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“If they let us back in,” he shrugged.

She cocked her head, taking in the possibility of refusal. “I wouldn’t mind breaking into a magic school.”

The smile he gave her then was soft, a smile he only gave to his parents, his brothers, and her. “Me too.”

He hadn’t thought it proper to scrutinize her new form until he’d asked how she was coping with her species transition. But now that he knew, by her words and her body language, that she didn’t  _hate_ it, he could study her properly. She was in many ways the same: same red hair, nut brown skin, mismatched eyes. Her nose was still hooked and her body still muscular. But there was a new thickness, too. Even the stockiest of elves had light bones, like a bird’s, but Holly’s new bones were dense, and had the muscle to support them. Her fingers were thicker, too, her eyes smaller in her head, and her angles smoother, though he assumed this was due to her lack of age than a human-specific feature.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. So she’d noticed his staring, then. “Will I live?”

“At least as long as the average human, barring any mishaps,” he said, averting his gaze back to the skyline.

“Guess I should stop hanging around you, then,” she quipped, bumping shoulders with him.

What would happen, he wondered, if they returned home and she remained human and he stayed young?

 _She would hate me,_  he thought automatically, but he only mostly believed it. She would have to live on the surface, and of course he’d help her in any way she allowed. As a fifteen-year-old passing girl, she’d need help getting papers and explaining her sudden appearance to the proper authorities. She’d age at the same rate as he did (give or take), she’d be able to experience the world she loved without fear, even help heal it.

 _And always feel like an outsider, both on the surface and Below,_ he thought, running a hand through his hair.  _I know better than anyone how it feels to be othered, to have such knowledge and forbidden to share it. Sometimes I think I’d be less lonely if I left the planet altogether. Because I know this, and I know Holly, I’d feel her loss more keenly than anyone._ He covered his eyes with a hand.  _And she’d probably hate me._

“What is it?” she asked.

“Ahh,” he dropped the hand and shook his head. “Just trying to figure out a way back home. Once we leave this magical sub-community I can build another inter-dimensional device, but that will take a few weeks at least, and a lot more pickpocketing than I’d planned on doing in my lifetime.”

“Or,” she countered, “we could use this.” Hooking a thumb under her LEP jumpsuit’s collar, she pulled out a rune-stamped pendant hanging from a gold chain around her neck.

“Is that—?”

“It’s one of No. 1’s scales,” she said, craning her neck to look down at it. “Our informants kept us up to date on your goings on, and made it known to us that technology was limited here. Foaly wanted to send one of his sci-fi gadgets, but No.1 insisted this wouldn’t be jumbled by the magical field around this place, and it would be a lot easier for him to hone in on a piece of himself.” She leaned in, her eyes and grin wide. “He  _insisted_. I’d never seen No.1 insist before. It was adorable.”

Artemis sighed in relief.

“So there’s only one obstacle left,” he said.

Contrary to their fears, after sending an owl requesting an audience with Dumbledore, Artemis and Holly were allowed into Hogwarts the next day.

“But only after you’ve had a change,” Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head at their torn, dirty clothes. She handed them each a short pile of clothes. “Really, the state you’re in.” She left them to get dressed.

Holly lifted up a skirt with her thumb and forefinger, and Artemis dropped his pile as soon as he saw the plaid button-down.

“The poor Brits are trying to cater to your Irish sensibilities,” Holly laughed behind her hand. “Do you want my skirt? Then you’d complete the look.”

His lip curled. In the end, he put on his Slytherin uniform sans the Hogwarts jacket. A bit dressed down for his tastes, but better than  _plaid._

Holly also improvised, borrowing a pair of Artemis’s trousers.

“Aww, they’re so cute,” she teased, beyond amused when the slacks which would have been taller than her before now only came down to her ankles when she put them on.

They arrived at Hogwarts during morning classes, so only Dumbledore was there to greet them.

“I’m curious what beings from another, more advanced dimension could want with us,” he said with a coy smile.

“Your curiosity will be relieved shortly, sir,” Artemis replied, “but once you hear me, you may wish to have kept it. You see,” he looked down at his folded hands as they walked the corridor, then back up at the wizened face. “I need the service of a dementor.”

“What under the earth do you need one of those monsters for, Artemis?” Holly asked. Their footsteps echoed on the stone floors of the upstairs halls.

“I’d rather not discuss it at the moment,” Artemis said, peering down an adjoining hallway before going on. “I’m not sure how much  _he_ can hear.”

“Oh, so now there’s another terrible, unnameable wizard?”

Artemis scoffed. “Hardly.”

She folded her arms, easily keeping up with his fast pace. “What are we doing now?” she asked.

“Looking for—“

He was cut off by all the classroom doors flinging open and students pouring out like horses from a race gate.

“Arte— I mean Or— Holly!” Ron called, waving at them over the throng. Harry and Hermione were with him, and smiled when they saw the two.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked genially. “Thought you’d be heading back home.”

“We’ll be on our way soon enough,” Artemis said. He turned his attention to Hermione. “Actually, you could help us. Do you know where I might find what’s left of Lord Valeron?”

She tapped her large front teeth as she thought. “No, the ghosts roam around the castle at will, and Lord Valeron’s body is even more reclusive. But I do know something that might help you find him.”

Hermione had to head to class, but Harry and Ron opted to skip in order to aid Artemis and Holly in their quest. Armed with Hermione’s advice, they split up.

Holly put up her shield, preferring not to risk uncomfortable questions and possible detainment. She was on a third floor stairwell when she heard the reverberation of something dense and round being dropped. She ran down the rest of the stairs and into a basement corridor.

Lord Valeron was there, translucent blue against the mossy black, bending down to retrieve his skull from the floor. Dusting it off with the cuff of his jacket, he slotted the skull back onto his neck and blue flames lit up his empty eye sockets. Only then did he notice her presence.

“Ah,” a voice, deeper and more friendly than Lord Valeron’s said, “I still haven’t gotten used this. It’s a ‘real’ head, so I can’t phase through walls anymore.”

“If it helps, I can’t either,” Holly said.

He laughed loudly, and she jumped.

He covered his teeth with a hand. “Sorry, not used to talking, either. It’s hard to gauge the volume.” He lowered his hand, resting it on the hilt of his sword. “Were you looking for me?”

Holly and the ghost reunited with the others at Dumbledore’s office, then the group went to the roof. It was now free period, and Hermione and Professor Lupin had joined them.

Artemis positioned a chair he’d brought in the center of the group and sat in it, playing with a length of rope in his lap.

“You’re all here to witness and complete the experiment Lord Valeron attempted all those years ago. His fatal flaw: he attempted it alone. Well, almost.” He looked up at the ghost. “Do you also go by Valeron, or do you prefer another moniker?”

“When we were children, Valeron named me Egbert,” he said. “But I always felt like more of a Geoff.”

“Well, Geoff, everyone,” he nodded to the rest of the group. “You all have a job to do. I’ve already explained to Geoff his part, but the rest of you will have to trust me.”

The group all exchanged glances, except Holly, who kept her eyes on Artemis. “What are you planning, Arty?” She said his pet name with bite, but he didn’t cower.

“There’s a reason for the secrecy,” he assured her, “but all will be happy in the end. I hope.”

He shimmied his shoulders against the chair and inhaled deeply. “Now, let’s begin.”

He extended the rope toward Holly. “Tie me to the chair, please.”

She bound him to the chair by his chest and wrists.

“There should be enough there for the ankles, too,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, but complied. “What now?”

“Now, I want you to knock me out. When Orion arrives, Professor,” he turned his head to Lupin. “Call the dementor, if you please. And the rest of you, hide for the moment behind that aviary.”

Voices erupted.

“ _What?_ ” Hermione and Holly demanded.

“Are you trying to kill him?” yelled an irate Ron.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” said Professor Lupin.

“I do,” Artemis said calmly. “Intimately, as you remember, professor. Now please, trust me. Once Geoff gives the signal, there are four capable wizards here who can expel the dementor. Then this whole order will be over.”

Ron shook his head. “You didn’t answer  _my_ question. Are you—“

“Let’s begin,” Artemis said loudly.

Dumbledore placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder, leading the group behind the aviary. Artemis, Geoff, Lupin, and Holly all remained in the exposed center.

“Holly, when you’ve incapacitated me, go with the others.”

She frowned. “No, I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

“It has to come after me, or there’s no point.” He jerked his head toward Lupin. “I’m well protected.”

Holly shot a wary glance at Lupin, sighed, then punched Artemis in the temple.

The effect was instant. His head lolled to one side, and by the time it had completed its rotation, he had the round, innocent eyes of Orion. Correction: round, scared eyes.

“Why am I tied up?” he asked, straining against the bonds. “He’s been keeping secrets, nasty secrets, and now I’m back? Let me go. Let me go!” He found Holly’s face and she regretted staying. His sad eyes, Artemis’s eyes, broke her heart. “Holly!”

She ran back to the rest of the group, her hand over her mouth.

“ _Accio… dementor.”_ Lupin said, and Orion yelled in frustration and fear. Ron lunged forward, but Hermione held him back.

“I don’t think Artemis is a killer,” she said when he looked back at her in confused betrayal, and he stopped struggling.

A cold descended on the rooftop when the dementor arrived moments later. It locked on to the boy strapped to the chair immediately, drawn to his fear and negative emotion. Floating within an arm’s length, it began to suck: an intangible, vacuous sucking, like the devastating nothingness of a black hole. He felt himself stretched, then pulled out of the body he called home.

“ _Holly! Ron! Hermione!”_ he called, sobs choking his voice. “ _What did I do, why won’t you help?”_ He saw his own terrified eyes reflected back at him. No, not reflected, he realized, he’s seeing his actual eyes.  _“Anyone!”_ He tried to reach out to his corporeal form, tried to pull it back on like a wet suit. “ _HELP!”_

Then he felt a cold, but strong, hand on his arm. Not his body’s arm, but his non-corporeal arm.

“Now!” Geoff yelled.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Lupin and Hermione both said, the girl dashing forward from behind the aviary.

Orion looked up, suspended in the air between Geoff and the dementor.

“Orion!” Ron called, following on Hermione’s heels.

“Ron! Harry!” A rush of relief came over Orion, and the positive emotion loosened the dementor’s grip, while the Patronus charm catapulted it off the roof.

He felt an odd snap, like breaking an old branch off a tree, as the connection between himself and the dementor severed completely. He dropped to his feet, Geoff’s hand still around his arm.

The Gryffindors surrounded their friend.

“Wizard,” Ron breathed. He extended a finger to poke Orion’s glowing blue shoulder, but his finger went straight through.

“I’m a ghost,” Orion said like an unbelievable fact. Then he asked, “I’m a ghost?”

The three students nodded, large grins plastered across their faces.

“I’m a ghost!” he moved to pump the air with his right arm, but it was still restrained.

“Um, Geoff old boy,” he said, “you can let go now.”

Geoff’s skull pivoted back and forth. “No, not yet. We’re not sure if you’re able to sustain yourself outside of Artemis’s body. Letting go at best might result in you snapping back into Artemis’s brain, and at worst—“

“He’ll disappear altogether,” Harry realized.

“Or I could stay as I am,” Orion said. He pointed to Geoff. “You did.”

“I’m also dead.”

“Artemis. Artemis?”

The group turned to Holly, who hovered over her friend’s still unconscious form, pulling at the ropes holding him to the chair with shaking fingers. “I can see why you didn’t tell me the whole plan before, you undead moron. It wasn’t so Orion wouldn’t find out, it was so I wouldn’t just conk you over the head and drag you back home.” She pried his eyes open and huffed desperately when she saw his irises had rolled back into his head. “Does anyone have an electric toothbrush I could borrow? Or a cattle prod?”

“Maybe I could be of some assistance,” Dumbledore suggested. Taking Holly’s place in front of the boy, he pointed his wand at Artemis’s chest. “ _Rennervate_ ,” he said, and a blast of red energy sunk into the boy’s chest.

Artemis’s torso heaved forward, he coughed once, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Did it work?” he croaked, kneading the back of his neck with a hand.

“You did this on purpose?” Orion approached his sitting doppleganger with Geoff still attached.

Artemis raised his eyebrows. “Now this is interesting.” He stood, but his knees wobbled and Holly pulled one of his arms over her shoulders, supporting his weight. Artemis and Orion looked each other over. Orion still retained Artemis’s visage, even though their personalities were so different.

“I thought you were trying to get rid of me,” Orion said sheepishly.

Artemis grinned. “I did.”

Lupin and Dumbledore stood to the side, both bewildered and intrigued by the conversation between the boy and his own ghost.

“Geoff says I might not make it,” Orion said, looking down at his half-opaque loafers.

“Geoff is being overdramatic,” Artemis shrugged. “I don’t feel a trace of you in my mind anymore, so no danger there. And yes, there is still a chance of losing your structural integrity once he lets go,” he gave Orion a knowing smile. “But you’re too stubborn to give up so easily. I should know.”

Orion’s resulting smile was dazzling.

“Still,” Artemis said, moving Holly toward the stairs, “you should probably hang onto Geoff until we head back, which we’re doing right now, down on the lawn. You stay up here, far away from dimensional magic. If there are any remaining tendrils left connecting us,” he made a cutting motion with his free hand. “They’ll be severed then.”

“Thank you,” Orion said, coming closer again. “After all the horrible things I said, and taking over your body for weeks, you didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t.” He held out a hand to Orion to shake.

Orion stared at it, raised an eyebrow, then carefully slotted his hand around his counterpart’s, skin and ectoplasm only barely touching.

“Live well,” Artemis said. The two friends turned to retreat down the stairs.

“And Holly,” Orion called after them. She tensed under Artemis’s arm, but looked back.

He blew her a kiss. “I’ll always love you.”

“Move on,” Holly growled, ignoring the laughs of the wizards on the roof.

Unlike the time travel incident, they didn’t have to strip down to their skivvies. They squatted next to each other on the lawn and Holly took out No.1’s scale. She cradled it in her palms, closed her eyes, and summoned her magic, flooding the charm. Nothing.

Just as they were about to despair that the magical homing beacon didn’t work, they were both pulled into a point just under the scale. Once they were safely in the dimensional vortex, the scale winked out of existence behind them. Falling through dimensions was more akin to falling through Willy Wonka’s tunnel on LSD than it was being pulled apart and put back together, so it was almost relaxing. Artemis closed his eyes, focusing on Holly’s hand getting smaller and smaller in his own while a demon warlock did all the heavy lifting in directing them back to their own dimension.

Artemis buttoned the top button on a dark blue dress shirt and slung a white tie around his neck. It felt good to be in his own clothes again. Holly, on the other hand, now wore one of Juliet’s old Wrestlemania shirts with a belt cinched at the waist.

When they had materialized in the forest behind Fowl Manor, the human clothes which had fit her so well at Hogwarts practically fell off. Artemis, on the other hand, had actually sprinted for the manor, his adult body splitting the seams of the clothes made for a child.

“I’m glad to be an elf again, don’t get me wrong,” Holly grumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat on the window seat of Artemis’s study and looked over the front lawn covered in autumn leaves. “But I wish I could have at least kept some of the height. It was nice being able to look down on you for a change.” The two exchanged a baleful glance, and she grinned. “I mean literally. I’m always looking down on you metaphorically.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, shrugging on a jacket. “You are my moral lighthouse.”

“Ugh, don’t put that burden on me.” She winked at him. “Besides, the SS Fowl has been charting his own course pretty well.”

“Kind of you to say.”

Holly bit her lower lip, watching Beckett and Myles jump into the leaf piles Juliet had raked together. She could hear Beckett’s faint squeals of joy from here, as well as Juliet’s shouts for him to put his pants back on.

“Do you wish you could have brought something back?” Holly asked. She smirked at him. “They had a lot of cool magical toys. I’ll bet you were itching to bring some of them back.”

A scream from outside distracted her, and she watched the twins play again.

Fastening a cuff link, Artemis turned his palm up. With only the briefest of thoughts, a small, blue flame flickered to life just above his skin. He closed his fist over the flame.

“No,” he said, “I only brought back what was mine.”

Orion and his friends watched from the roof with mounting trepidation as Artemis and Holly crossed the Hogwarts green to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The two travelers crouched together.

“Any time now,” Orion told them. They leaned over the ledge, as if the few extra centimeters would make it all clearer.

Orion’s now solitary mind was racing, not knowing whether to be scared or confident or happy. But he was hopeful. And oh, if this worked, he’d never be sad again. Geoff felt his fear and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

Suddenly, Orion felt a sharp pain in his temple, and Hermione squeaked.

“They’re gone!” Harry exclaimed. “They disapparated from inside Hogwarts!”

“Orion?” Ron asked, eyeing his friend warily. “Are you OK?”

Orion looked at Geoff, who started to peel his hand off his arm one finger at a time. Finally, only his palm pressed against the fabric of Orion’s shirt. They all held their breathes and Orion closed his eyes as Geoff took a step back.

There was a moment of silence.

He didn’t feel any different. He wiggled his fingers, cracked open an eye. His friends still stood in front of him, slack jawed.

Tears brimmed Hermione’s brown eyes, and the three rushed him, forming a group hug around him that his ghost body now phased right through. He imagined he’d miss hugs at some point, then banished the thought. The future didn’t matter now, even a future he knew would be full of adventure, intrigue, and heroism. As ectoplasmic tears stung his eyes, only one thing warranted saying. At long last.

“I’m free.”

 

Fin.

 


	29. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fanfiction! If you'd like more Artemis Fowl content, I keep a blog at af-answers.tumblr.com, which is actually the original home of this story. :)

> **[viennalaurel](https://viennalaurel.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Incredible. The final chapter of the Howarts AU made me tear up fiercely - excellent writing. I do have a question; Does Artemis now have magic that won't drive him crazy?

 

**Artemis:** Indeed, viennalaurel, I have managed to unlock my magical potential once again. However, I didn’t steal it this time: this ability has been locked inside me since the time travel incident years ago, but I was hesitant to experiment with it.

When Orion unleashed our magic talents on accident, and without the side-effects I experienced before, I decided to keep that part of my brain open, to see how trans-dimensional travel affected my magical affinity.

> **[miloomezai](https://miloomezai.tumblr.com/)**  asked:
> 
> Butler, you look exhausted, I know Artemis missing is causing you a huge amount of stress but please take some rest too...

 

**Artemis:** These are the remnants of the Hogwarts AU asks that our moderator dropped the ball on. However, as I am currently occupied, Butler will be addressing them.

First off, thank you [@awesomecomicsansundertalestuff](https://tmblr.co/m0mYWFJjHjdMi08Riyt1rHQ) for the birthday wishes for Artemis. “Stickiness” is a good descriptor for the Hogwarts incident.

The whole misadventure was… irritating, to say the least. I wanted to be the one to retrieve Artemis, but Qwan explained that the smaller the person sent, the more accurate No. 1 could be, and it helped that Holly was a magical being. So once again, I was forced to watch from the sidelines. Artemis has been entangling himself in more and more debacles that I can’t protect him from. It’s probably part of Artemis’s version of “growing up,” but it makes me uneasy.

I don’t think I’ll ever rest while Artemis insists on getting into ridiculous situations.

And I don’t think Holly was at Hogwarts long enough to encounter these “house elves,” [@beedok](https://tmblr.co/m9cnV4l_TnIENxeYYCYTogg), but if they were in trouble, she would have done her best to help them. It’s that heart of service that makes the captain dear to us.


End file.
